Old Wounds
by The Hollow Man
Summary: After love there was hatred. After hatred there was vengeance. But when even vengeance is sated, will there be anything left? Can love save Ash, or is he lost to his own darkness? AshxHarem rated M for good reasons.
1. Chapter 1: Return To Sender

**NOTE TO ALL THOSE WHO HAVE READ **_**ANGEL IN THE MACHINE**_**: Do not write to tell me **_**Old Wounds**_** is not as good/funny/long as my first fic. I already know. **_**Old Wounds**_** is something I write when I have no idea what to do with **_**Angel In the Machine**_**, and it helps me get past my blocks. Read it solely for your own interest, or if you're curious to see how writing one fic can help you generate ideas for another fic. If you only read **_**Angel In the Machine**_** for the penis jokes, **_**Old Wounds**_** will not appeal to you.**

**So I asked myself: "HollowMan, when your first fic is seventy thousand words long and isn't even half done, what the hell do you write second? What could you write that won't be roundly panned for not being as good/long/funny as the first fic?" Then I realized that I was being a prat, and decided to go ahead and write whatever the hell I felt like.**

**For those of you who don't know, my first fic was a harem fic that involved aura. I informed my readers at the time that I was aware it wasn't particularly original **_**(Readers nod)**_**. For my second fic, however, I've decided to take things in a whole new direction! **_**(Readers gasp with delight.)**_

**It's a harem fic that involves aura!**

_**(Readers pelt the HollowMan with rotten fruit.)**_

**Wait! Stop! There's an original new twist!**

_**(Readers pause.)**_

**It's also an "Ash gets betrayed" fic!**

_**(Readers switch to rocks).**_

**Fine, be that way. Just give it a try. If you read the first few chapters and don't like it, then leave me a cheery "fuck you" in the comments and be about your business. I'll have a new chapter of **_**Angel in the Machine **_**up one of these years.**

**DISCLAIMER: All characters, plot lines, and concepts within the Pokemon universe are the intellectual property of their respective owners, licensers and distributers. The author of this fanfiction makes no claim to own any part of the Pokemon franchise and generates no income thereby. This fanfiction is free of charge, and if you have paid for it then you are a victim of fraud.**

**Also, it gets raunchy near the end of chapter three. If you don't like that sort of stuff, don't read it.**

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><p><strong>Old Wounds<strong>

**1-Return To Sender**

"They say". Can we think about that phrase for a bit? It can mean a lot of things in a lot of contexts. It's just two words: a personal pronoun followed by a verb. It's also a Scars on Broadway song. But the way I mean it is as a preface to some truly stupid human logic. Take the phrase 'they say' and then state your own opinion and bam! Instantly you look like a populist debater and not the prick that you are. I can tell you- from my own personal experience and not some made up experts- that 'they' aren't always right.

They say that I'm a murderer. I say different. At least, I used to.

Not that my hands are clean. No, I'd hurt people before. Mostly it was accidental, but I was willing to fight when I got backed into a corner. I'd had a taste of that with my run-ins with Jessie and James, but it wasn't until I met Hunter J that I realized how far I could be pushed before snapping. I was willing to play the hero, the white knight... right up until she broke the rules by trying to kill my friends. I still believed in justice then, but after she pulled that trick any restrictions I'd placed on my actions got tossed out the window. It had all worked out in the end- my friends were fine, my pokemon were fine, and Hunter J got nothing but the dark embrace of a cold, watery grave. But I hadn't murdered her; I wouldn't have even if I could have. She'd got what she'd deserved and I definitely didn't mourn her, but I was a different person then and I would have been more likely to try and save her than finish her off. No, I wasn't a murderer. Not until the people who condemned me turned me into one.

They say. They say a lot of things.

They say that tragedy chases the illusion of serenity, and this may or may not be true. No one would have considered the Celadon shopping center to be serene at the best of times, and it certainly wasn't on the day I visited it with my mother to buy new clothes for my next journey. I was fourteen then, fresh back from Sinnoh and keen to take on Unova. I'd wanted to leave almost immediately, but mom had balked, guilting me into staying for at least a month. Near the end of that time she had taken me out to Celadon city, home of Kanto's most famous retail center, in order to purchase supplies. We hadn't really had the money for such things- I usually picked up second hand goods in Viridian- but mom insisted that one of the top four trainers in Sinnoh couldn't go around with anything but the best. I would curse her decision later, but when I have time to actually think about it I guess it's for the best. If the decision to go to Celadon had to be the last act of her life, at least it was one that showed me she loved me.

I didn't have the best view of the incident, but I managed to piece it together afterwards from the witnesses. Imagine, if you would, the Celadon center. A tall, multi-storied building rich with windows and decorations. People streaming in and out of the doors. Passersby on the sidewalks, gaily going about their business. Things weren't actually picture perfect of course, but they would seem that way later in contrast to the horror that was about to happen.

That was happening... now.

Nothing at first except for a clicking sound and a 'whumpf' noise. Then suddenly everything happens at once. A flash of white light comes from the windows on the southern side of the building, and they shatter, raining hot glass on the panicking crowd outside the building. The windows on the north side- the side that takes the brunt of the ensuing explosion- don't shatter. They don't have time. They simply melt, and hot droplets of glass are then blown out of their frames by the deafening roar of the blast. The people outside run and scream. Many of them are hurt, some are dead. All will eventually stop panicking and turn to the flaming husk of the building, frozen by the realization that the people inside are dying in one of the most horrific ways imaginable. Later it would be known that the original blast was on the second floor. Later it would be known that the original incident killed less than a tenth of the victims, and that the others succumbed to the flames or the smoke.

It was only later they would whisper that I had murdered over three hundred people.

But for now, no one said anything. They just gathered on the street and watched the building burn in an uncanny silence. No one spoke, which was for the best. It would have been hard to hear them over the sounds of sirens and the screaming of the dying anyway.

* * *

><p>"It... isn't going well." The defence lawyer sighed.<p>

I ignored him. He was a good man, in his own way- the fact he was even willing to defend me in court was proof enough of that- but it was obvious that this case was nothing more than work to him. He cared about law, not justice. The two of us were sitting in his office, reviewing the preliminary judiciary findings before the trial began. It was a largish room, filled with the trappings of a man of his vocation- the fountain pen, the fake plant, the rows of leather bound books. I wondered briefly if he'd ever read any of them. He probably hadn't, but I decided not to hold it against him. They were, like everything in his life, only there to project an image.

"Mr. Ketchum?"

His life was illusory. Unreal. Just like mine had become.

"Mr. Ketchum, is there something on your mind?"

"_The Trial._"

"What?"

"Kafka's _The Trial._ On your bookshelf. Is that supposed to be funny?"

He gave me an odd look, which I guess was understandable. My mind had been... freewheeling for the last few days, making every attempt to focus on anything but what had happened. For a long time they wondered if I was even going to be able to stand trial- the burn wounds and lacerations I'd received in the initial blast had been complicated by the fall I took when the floor gave out- but I was young. I was strong. I'd healed, although it might have been easier on everyone concerned if I'd just died. That way I wouldn't have to see the coverage of the incident on the TV. The families of the dead. The calls for my execution.

The lies.

Charizard. They said it had been Charizard. That I'd been showing off my mighty orange fire lizard, that I'd lost control. Lies. Charizard was a fighter, and I'll admit he was belligerent to the core, but he would never do that. Not to innocent people, and definitely not to children. But his conscience was besides the point- he hadn't been out of his pokeball since mom and I left from Pallet. I'd never taken him out of the damn ball, much less used him to commit a massacre. But... but there were witnesses. People who said they'd seen what I knew was impossible. There weren't many of them, true, as there weren't many survivors period. But at least a dozen of the people pulled out of the wreckage of the center said that it had been me.

I wondered if I should be mad. No, that isn't true- I knew I should be mad. Mad that they would lie, angered by their refusal to accept my account of things. But to be honest, I didn't feel much of anything anymore. My mother was dead. Gone. What did what everyone else believed matter in the face of that? She would still be just as dead if they hanged me as if they didn't.

Still, that fact didn't stop the news from smearing my reputation twenty-four seven. Over the course of the months I had been 'detained' by the league, they must have dragged every person I'd ever met on my journey out onto the screen. Champions, frontier brains, rivals, gym leaders... people who had been a huge part of my life were brought out one by one to denounce me.

"_...he was always too impatient..."_

"_...not the kind of boy fit to be handling such a dangerous creature..."_

"_...pathetic. He was a terrible person..."_

"_...always knew he'd kill someone someday..."_

Some people were more willing to hate me than others. Paul had bashed me for nearly an hour on national television, whereas Anabel hemmed and hawed for most of her interview before admitting that I was "never the most cautious of boys". Some of those who gave statements looked as if they didn't like what they were saying... but they still said it. They were an uncomfortably small minority anyway.

But still, there were some that came to my defence, right? Some who spoke up, some who reminded everyone how many times I'd saved the goddamned world in the past, right? After four years of being a hero, a person who had sacrificed everything for his friends, surely they came to me in my hour of need?

Ha. Too fucking right they came to me.

"_Why, Ash? Why did you have to be so impatient?"_

"_People are dead because of you!"_

"_How could you do this to us? To yourself? To your mother? We all trusted you!"_

"_I wish I'd never met you!"_

"_Bastard! Insensitive bastard!" Sobs, weeping. "Why? For God's sakes, how could you?"_

They hadn't believed me. Not one. Some of them refused to even hear me out. I winced, shook myself slightly, and tried to focus on whatever the lawyer was saying.

"Sorry, I'm tired. What did you say?"

"I said that it wasn't going well. It looks like I can get it down to manslaughter instead of murder, but over three-hundred counts of manslaughter is going to land you some serious time. We're talking about multiple life sentences if it comes to a conviction."

"So they've ruled out execution have they?"

It was his turn to wince. Kanto, alone amongst the four regions, still had the death penalty. It wasn't used very often, but it was still possible... and it definitely wouldn't look good for my lawyer to lose a client to it.

"You're fourteen Mr. Ketchum. I doubt they would kill you, even over this. But... I can't pretend it isn't possible. They sure as hell aren't going to try you as a minor, not with three hundred dead. The easiest sentence I can promise you with any certainty is a maximum security facility for the rest of your life. Regardless of what you're actually like, the region as a whole sees you as a clear and present danger to society. If they aren't allowed to kill you, they will try to put you away for good... unless we cut a deal."

I gazed at him balefully. What the hell kind of deal could we cut? The prosecution was going to destroy us... and even if by some miracle I was acquitted, an angry populace would tear me limb from limb the second the police took their eyes off me. My lawyer gazed back at me levelly.

"Plead negligence."

"No."

"Mr. Ketchum-"

"I didn't do anything. I won't pretend I did. Not even to get the sentence reduced."

"Sticking with the innocent act to the finish, hmm? You've got guts kid, but it isn't going to matter."

"It isn't an act."

He sighed, weary. "Fine. If you won't plead guilty, there is one other option."

"I'm listening."

"The prosecution doesn't want this trial to go on any longer than we do. They realize that this trial is going to take months, and it's going to be a goddamned zoo. Tabloids, police, angry families... no fun for anyone. Expensive, embarrassing to the league, painful for the survivors..."

"I get it. So?"

"I've been speaking with league officials, and with the lawyers on the other side. They're prepared to accept exile."

"Exile?"

"We fly you somewhere, drop you off, and forget you ever existed. Your records get stripped and your name is deleted from all league files. If you ever set foot in the four regions again, we shoot you on sight. In effect, you become a non-person... you simply never were. It resolves quite a few problems actually- the government doesn't have to kill or imprison a fourteen year old boy, the families of the victims get spared a messy trial and you don't have to plead innocent or guilty. Everybody wins."

Yeah, everybody wins... except for the minor fact that there wasn't a hell of lot of civilization outside of the four regions. The term "The four regions" was a misnomer in itself, seeing as how it included not only the four original regions but also Unova, Orre, and the others. Together they formed an extremely loose alliance with common trade laws and pokemon league guidelines, but were still considered independent nations. Outside of the four regions... well, it depended on how far you went. I'd heard there were some decently sized fringe colonies, but most areas outside of league controlled territory were wild and dangerous. Some of the more feral of wild pokemon gathered there, and a lot of it was unexplored and uninhabited. Trying to make a living outside of the four regions would be tough to say the least.

But... maybe it wouldn't be so bad to just accept. I was numb now, but I had a sneaking suspicion that I was going to start feeling again real soon. I'd rather not be sitting in a jail cell unable to do anything about that when it happened. Surviving would be difficult, but no one said I had to survive. In fact, I don't think I wanted to.

"Fine." I grunted. "Exile."

"I don't know where they'll send you." He warned.

"I don't care where. As long as it isn't here."

* * *

><p>I had never flown on a helicopter before, although the feeling was hauntingly familiar. The slight swaying motions and the constant juddering whine of the engine reminded me almost perfectly of riding one of Team Rocket's mechas. The whole trip had been less eventful than I had imagined, given the circumstances. Neither the prosecution nor the government seemed to have any problems sending me to some godforsaken rock to die, and the request for exile was approved remarkably quickly for the legal system. There were some mutterings from the general population that it wasn't a harsh enough punishment, but overall everyone seemed relieved that I was leaving and they could get some closure.<p>

When the time had come, I was taken from my cell and placed aboard one of Kanto's battle cruisers which had been due to make a patrol sweep outside of territorial waters anyway. It had taken six weeks from the time we set sail until the time we cleared the last of the recon buoys that marked interregional waters, and from that point on we dropped out of radio contact with the mainland and were officially on our own. I didn't see this of course- to me, the trip consisted of nothing but a jail cabin instead of a jail cell- but the guard who brought me food kept me at least reasonably well informed. I guess he figured he didn't have much to lose by being nice.

The captain was far more concerned with patrol duties than with me, but when he judged us far enough away from the four regions I was hustled aboard a helicopter and flown inland.

"You should be honoured" muttered a guard as I was shoved roughly into the holding bay. "The captain deemed you dangerous enough to put half the world between you and us."

Whether I was truly half the world away or not was anybody's guess. I can say with certainty that I had no idea where I was though. The glimpses I could get of the land we flew over suggested an area of mist and dark vegetation- jungle maybe. I hoped so. Committing suicide on alien soil because I'd been accused of crimes I didn't commit was bad enough, I didn't want to be cold while doing it.

My attention was suddenly diverted from the vista below me by a prickling at the back of my neck. I turned in the direction of the odd sensation, and realized that Lance had been staring at me, trying to derive something out of my reactions. I had been surprised by the decision to send the captain of Kanto's guard forces and member of its elite four to guard me. I wasn't anymore. The government wanted this done and over with, and could allow no fuckups to occur. They wanted me gone, unable to make problems.

I met Lance's eyes, and they stared back at me levelly. I had met him a few times before the incident, and although we were never really close, he had struck me as a fair man. I knew that the crimes I was accused of must have galled him, but if he had an opinion on my situation or the veracity of the charges against me, he had kept it to himself. The entirety of my interaction with him on this trip had consisted of me asking what the time was, and him giving a muttered reply. But every so often I would catch him staring with narrowed eyes, as if he were searching for any hint of the monster the press claimed I was. I didn't know if he had found it in me, but... well, Lance was Lance. He was a powerful trainer himself, and while I wasn't even close to his league, he understood the dangers that every trainer faced. He knew my reputation, and he knew the little quirks that a dragon-like pokemon such as Charizard was likely to have.

Maybe... just maybe he believed me? Not enough to be sure- no, whatever else Lance was he was honest. If he were sure I was innocent then he would never be party to my exile. But he might be just unsure enough to wonder.

I felt no joy at the thought- didn't allow myself to feel any joy. It still didn't matter. I was still an exile, my friends had still abandoned me, and my mother was still just as dead. But the idea that not everyone was totally sure of my guilt was an incredibly comforting one nonetheless. If Lance doubted the official version of events- and it was becoming increasingly clear that he might- then there may have been others. Others who would doubt, others who would one day seek the truth of what had transpired. That thought gave me absolutely zero happiness, but it did bring with it a measure of peace.

The chopper slowed in its forward movement and started to hover. Apparently we were going to land. I was amazed that they had found anywhere to set down in this dense wilderness, but the pilot must have managed to locate marginal clearance because we descended slowly and eventually came to a jerky landing. Across from me Lance frowned and shifted his eyes to the pilot.

"What are we doing? I thought we were supposed to at least put him in some sort of settlement."

"No settlements out here Sir! None for hundreds of miles, and those aren't what I'd call stranger friendly."

"Then why here?"

"I just flew where I got told to fly Sir."

"Who ordered-"

"Forget it." I told him. Lance shifted his glare from the pilot to me.

"This is pure wilderness inmate Ketchum. You will not survive here. Even if we'd let you keep your pokemon you wouldn't survive."

"I didn't come here to survive." I tell him, the calmness in my tone surprising even me. "We both know I was sent here because it creates less paperwork than just killing me outright. Just as we both know this is a death sentence, even if you want to call it an exile. I don't give a shit where I die, I just want to get it over with before I have to start thinking again."

Lance paused for a moment, before nodding. "Fine. Here is your survival gear inmate Ketchum, provided to you as dictated by the conditions of your exile."

I shouldered the pack he handed me and resisted the urge to laugh bitterly in his face. A litre of clean water and a basic portable shelter did not constitute "survival gear". Not out here. It would be hell on earth trying to get to the nearest pocket of civilization on that alone, and I was mildly grateful for the fact that I didn't even intend to try.

"Ashura Ketchum" said Lance in his most officious tone "you have been accused and convicted of capital crimes against the sovereign region of Kanto, as well as against individual citizens who are governed and protected by that state. In lieu of trial or plea, you have accepted the punishment of exile. You will never again physically enter any territory controlled by the interregional organization known as the four regions, nor will you ever conspire against them from areas outside of that territory. In return for your acceptance of these terms, the government of Kanto gives you free reign to do as you will outside of the four regions. Your insistence of innocence will also be recorded and retained in your case file. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." I state, almost succeeding in keeping the bitterness out of my tone.

"Then the state of Kanto decrees justice done. If you live then live well, and should you die we commend your soul to any god who will take it."

I grunt, stand up, and move to the door. One of the guards opens it for me. I jump out of the heli, and take my first good look around what is supposed to be my new home. It isn't worth a second look- hell, it wasn't even worth the first look. I won't waste time describing it but "a tangled, dark, dangerous ball of mud and weeds" comes close enough. The dense underbrush is no doubt crawling with half rabid pokemon, but I dismiss that fact as irrelevant. There are dangerous creatures here, but they aren't going to have time to be a serious problem for me. I turn from the chopper and make to head for the woods, but a call from behind stops me.

"Ash! Wait!"

I turn, irritated by Lance's insistence in dragging this out.

"I told you I don't care where they put me!" I snap, my anger rising above my numbness for the first time in a while. I'd better make this fast- I can feel the emotions I've been suppressing welling up, getting ready to overwhelm me.

"That isn't it." He shakes his head. "I know what you're going to do. Hell, anyone could tell just by looking at you. It's doable, but it isn't as easy as you think without the proper tools. Here. You don't want to mess up and do it half way."

From inside his coat, Lance pulled a gun. It was a wicked looking instrument, dark black and bigger than any I had ever seen. But it made sense I guess- Lance was a dragon trainer. The gun had to be a .50 cal but even it would only tickle something like a Salamence or a Garchomp. Lance removed most of the bullets from the clip, leaving only one in the gun. He then handed it to me.

"Flip the safety off, cock the hammer and pull the trigger. Your best bet is through the eye- shots to the side of the head tend to bounce."

I nodded wearily. "Thank you."

He nods back, says something to the pilot, and grabs onto the safety handle as the helicopter takes off again. I watched it go, then turned around and made my way into the woods.

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><p>Having your last thoughts be about a yellow rodent was an odd turn of events, but as I sat in a cave and watched the rain, idly flicking the safety of the gun that would kill me, I couldn't help but wonder what Pikachu was doing at this moment. Wondered if he was sad that I was gone, or whether he even knew what was happening. I hadn't been allowed to see him or any of my other pokemon since this whole thing had started, and I didn't know if anyone had even told him what was going on.<p>

But the real question, the question that kept bugging me even as I tried to put all my regrets to bed, was would he try to find me? His chances of success were bad. There was a lot of ground between us, and I'd been taken by ship so he wouldn't even have a scent trail to go by.

Still...

Pikachu was loyal. I had thought my friends were too... but I knew deep down that Pikachu had shown me the kind of loyalty that surpasses friendship. Whatever genetics said, we were family. He would miss me, and he would try to find me. I just hoped for his sake that he didn't try for long. He was a good pokemon, and he deserved better than to spend the rest of his life looking for someone who didn't exist anymore.

And that was the just of things wasn't it? Everything that had made Ash Ketchum into Ash Ketchum- his dreams, his family, his friends- were either gone or so ruined as to make no difference. I was... nothing. I had no hope for the future, and even if I did I had no one to share it with. Ash Ketchum, for all his faults, had been a pretty decent guy. I doubt anything I could become now could match up to him. Which was the reason I had chosen exile in the first place, the reason I had crawled into this cave near the drop zone to avoid getting rain water on the gun Lance had given me. The reason I was now running through a list of final thoughts before I finally ended this.

Huh. Can't think of anything else.

I pulled the hammer back on the gun and listened to its deadly "click!" as the round in the clip snapped into position. In a single smooth motion I brought the barrel up to side of my head. Lance may have thought that the eye was a good choice, and he was right, but Lance was too used to dragon sized problems. The gun was a fifty cal, even if it bounced it would still take my head off. I closed my eyes, tensed the muscles in my arm and ordered my finger to squeeze-

And stopped. I'd heard something. Something that didn't belong.

I slowly opened one eye and then the other, glancing towards the back of the cave where I'd heard the noise coming from. It hadn't been a loud noise, more like a harsh whisper that had been just on the edge of my hearing.

"Hello?" I asked, stepping towards the noise. "Is someone there?"

There came another noise, but this wasn't speech. No, it was laughter, high pitched and insane, apparently coming from all around me. I must have stood there frozen for nearly a minute until I realized what exactly had surprised me so badly. This noise, this laughter, it wasn't coming from the back of the cave. It was coming from inside my own head. I was in total shock, or else I wouldn't have done what I did next. I stepped forward, leaving the illumination of the cave mouth and fully into shadow. I stepped into darkness.

It was a darkness I wouldn't leave for a very long time.

* * *

><p><strong>No, the thing in the cave wasn't Kaelus. Good guess, but he isn't showing up in this fic. I don't think I'm even going to get into what it was, just know that Ash hit a patch of bad aura at a vulnerable time and it made him go batshit crazy. Probably saved his life though. For those of you who don't know, "Return to Sender" is a euphemism for killing yourself (PSA- Don't kill yourself.)<strong>


	2. Chapter 2: Never Look Back

**The first two chapters of this fic are really the prologue, which is why stylistically chapter three feels different. They are necessary to get the backstory though, so read them.**

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><p><strong>2-Never Look Back<strong>

The old man looked outside at the person practicing in the front yard. He grunted with mild satisfaction at the young man's progress, but the look of worry that lined his face did not recede. He turned back to the room and voiced his concern to his wife.

"We need to do something about the boy."

Yellow sighed. Red Taijiri, her husband, was quite possibly the greatest pokemon master alive. The creatures he took under his wing tended to reach unheard of levels of strength, and he was almost certainly the most powerful aura user in the last millennia. Despite all that he had several key failings... one of which was the inability to admit that his apprentice was reaching adulthood.

"He's nineteen dear, hardly a boy any longer. And what exactly do you propose we do? He'll be fine. Sad, but fine."

"He'll slack. The second I take my eyes off of him he'll slack off."

Yellow sighed again, something she did a lot of whenever Red discussed Ash's supposed failings.

"_Would it really kill him to admit that Ash has become the son we never had? Can't he admit for one bloody second that he loves him as much as I do?"_

Despite herself, Yellow smiled. She had been with Red for more years than she cared to remember now, and she was used to his little quirks, one of which being his absolute refusal to show any emotion he considered weak. Setting her book aside, Yellow gave him the look, the one that every wife learns eventually.

"He needs this dear. Needs to heal. He's come a long way since he came here first, but it isn't enough. It still haunts him, and he needs to face it."

Red's look of concern deepened as he cast his memory back to the day the boy arrived. Ash had been... well, "in a bad way" was how Yellow would have put it. "Fucking insane" was how Red would have put it, but the tone of his words would be offset by the empathy in his eyes as he said it. It had been three years since Red had found Ash lost in the woods, bleeding, babbling and badly wounded. What a sixteen year old boy was doing out there Red had no idea- he lived on an island, one known for its unpredictable weather and ferocious pokemon. But Red had more immediate concerns than how Ash got there, given the severity of his wounds. He'd dragged the semi-conscious boy back to his hut and had turned him over to Yellow's gentle ministrations. She had cared for the boy during his long, delirious recovery, and Red had aided her any way he could. Which, unfortunately, hadn't stopped Ash from trying to kill both of them upon regaining consciousness.

"_My own damn fault that was."_ Thought Red. _"He was more scared than angry, and I forgot that scared things fight back when you corner them."_

As soon as Ash had woken up, Red had plied him with questions, demanding he identify himself and explain why he was trespassing. Ash had stayed silent for a few moments, looked Red square in the face with dead eyes, and had started screaming. Leaping out of bed (the boy was damn quick considering the shape he was in), Ash had shoved Yellow out of his way and tried to claw Red's face off. There was no way a mere child could have bested Red in a fight no matter how crazed he was, but it hadn't really been a fight. Ash hadn't been trying to hurt either one of them, he'd just tried to escape, to run, and they'd gotten in his way. Red had been just about to break the boy's neck (purely out of reflex, he would have never considered murdering an invalid if he'd had time to think) when his wife had picked herself up from where she'd fallen, hugged Ash from behind and started to whisper soothing reassurances in his ear. It had worked. Ash had calmed down- slowly and hesitantly, but he did it. Red had never considered keeping the boy when he'd found him, but... well, he'd been a long time in healing. Yellow had gotten used to having him around, and Ash seemed to have taken to her as well. After three months went by with no sign of anyone coming to look for the boy, Red (after some heated debates with Yellow) had decided that he could stay. It was a win-win situation for everyone: Yellow got a family, Red got an apprentice, and Ash got a place to live.

Not that they'd even known his name was Ash at first. Whatever the boy had seen before showing up at Red's, it had left crippling mental scars. Ash couldn't speak for nearly a year after joining the Taijiri's, and it was almost eighteen months before he stopped screaming in his sleep. Red had been using aura himself for nearly fifty years at that point, but he didn't need to draw on that massive wealth of experience to see how broken the flow of the one true force was around the boy. At times Ash was lit up like a roman candle, practically bursting with pure white aura. At other times his energies would curl up and recede into a swirling, purple-black vortex of hate and pain that did not bode well for the boy's future. Ash was probably the most naturally gifted aura user Red had ever seen, but with his flow that turbulent the boy would never survive puberty.

And so Red had started to teach him. Yellow had been all for it- she always had kind of disapproved of the way Red tried to distance himself from everyone but his pokemon and her. She knew it would be good for both of them to learn to trust each other, and she'd encourage Red to guide Ash down the twin paths of aura and pokemon mastery. Red had taught, and Ash had learned.

"_And holy gods did he learn quickly."_ Red mused. Ash probably couldn't stand up to a true aura master for long, but the idea that he'd be able to survive a fight like that for any length of time at age nineteen spoke to how rapid the boy's progress had been. There had been faults, yes- Ash was quick, but he wasn't actually the fastest learner Red had ever seen- but the sheer determination and will Ash had brought to his training had been staggering. There was nothing he wouldn't try, no power so daunting or so difficult that he would not practise it over and over again until he got it perfect. He was the first student Red had ever seen- or heard about for that matter- who demanded an increase in the difficulty of his training. And despite his reserved nature, Red had risen to the challenge. He was the type of man who respected drive and courage, and Ash had plenty of each. The two of them had worked together for the last three years, each one pushing the other to new levels. Although Red would never admit it, Ash was by far the finest student he had ever taught.

Which didn't make him perfect. Far from it. That was the problem.

For all Ash had to recommend him, he was still sick. Not in his body- no, years of training had put him into the best shape of his life- but in his soul. He had arrived sick, and even Yellow's kindness and Red's pride in his progress hadn't healed him. He was, if anything, more broken than he had been when he came. He was much better at hiding it these days, but every so often Red would catch a glimpse of it- the cold, sullen darkness creeping up on the boy's mind. And as much as Red hated to admit it, this wasn't something he could fix. Wounds of that magnitude couldn't be healed from the outside, the will to be whole had to come from within.

Which didn't mean that Red had to like what he was about to tell the boy. Yellow, knowing why her husband was truly upset, walked over to him and placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"He'll be fine. He's your apprentice, remember? I bet he'll take the world by storm."

Red shook his head. "The world isn't his enemy Yellow. He is. I know he'll survive anything they throw at him, but is going to survive himself?"

Yellow smiled sadly. "All parents have to let go sometimes Red. All we can do is have faith in him."

Red frowned. "We aren't his-"

"Oh hush. We might as well be and you know it. Now come on gramps, go help your boy with his homework."

Red glared at her use of the word 'gramps', but Yellow threw it off with a smirk. Grumbling, he marched out to the front yard to confront Ash. Pausing on the front steps, he stopped to watch the boy at his practise. Part of that was a natural human stalling mechanism- Red did not want to do this- but most of it was just the discerning eye of a teacher looking over the progress of his favourite pupil.

A lot had changed in five years. The short, belligerent, ever-eager trainer who had stumbled his way through the leagues was gone. If the death of his mother and his betrayal at the hands of his friends hadn't ended that Ash, then the two years he'd spent in hell before discovering Red's home had dealt the death blow. Physically he had been blessed- puberty had left him well over six feet tall, and the years of constant training had supplied him with the lean, hard muscles of one who knew their life might depend on the conditioning of their body. But if he had grown physically, it had come at the cost of being emotionally stunted. He was tense- that actually made sense as he was currently training- but he was always tense these days. You could see it in the way he moved, hear it in the way he spoke. He'd grown his jet black hair out slightly, just enough so that it hung loose instead of clumping into spikes. That was partially due to the difficulty of cutting hair this far from civilization, but mostly so that his hair covered his eyes. Said eyes had lightened from the chocolate brown of his youth to a light, syrupy gold, and though they were still capable of kindness their default state seemed to be one of cold indifference. Ash still knew love, could still show it to Yellow, Red, and his pokemon, but no one would confuse him for a light-hearted man. He was grim now, the kind of grim that bespoke the fatalistic determination he possessed. He was going to be the best, the fastest, and the strongest or else he was going to die trying. His problems were hard to see sometimes- Ash had become good at passing off his pain and his fear as merely the result of an introverted nature- but they were made evident by the occasional glimpses Red could catch of the original Ash. Occasionally, when he was alone with his pokemon and didn't know he was being observed, Ash would break into a sunny smile and begin talking with the creatures like they were human friends. It didn't happen often anymore, but it proved to Red that something had to be done. Ash could still be saved.

"_And I'm his teacher. It's my damn duty to save him."_

Red just wished that Ash didn't have to go through this alone.

"_Quit it you fucking ninny! When did you get so soft? Suck it up and go tell the boy to get himself sorted."_

With his resolve thus made firm, Red stepped forward to talk to Ash.

* * *

><p>They were beautiful, these stars.<p>

It wasn't just their aesthetic value that made me say that either. Sure they were pretty- they glistened all around me in the noon-time sun, my own personal cosmos- but I liked them for what they represented. They were beautiful, and I had helped make them that way. Beauty was a rare thing for me now, and I liked to savour it when I could.

Alright, you're confused. Let me elaborate.

They were droplets of water from a nearby stream, not stars. But given the amount of effort it took to suspend those droplets in the air using nothing but my mind, I think I'm allowed a little poesy. It wasn't the amount of aura I needed to use that made the task difficult, it was the control. I had enough power to blow over cars or melt steel, but trying to keep thousands of droplets of water orbiting my body- all in different directions I might add- without letting any two of them touch took enormous amounts of concentration. Which was probably why master Red had told me to do it. It was odd really, the way he'd shifted from developing my power to developing my control, but I supposed he had his reasons. He usually did.

Speaking of master Red...

"Can I help you master?" I said as he approached me from behind. I made sure to keep my eyes shut and the droplets orbiting- he'd be pissed if I stopped practise just to talk to him. So I couldn't see him frown, but I didn't need to to know he was doing it.

"Did you hear me? I could have sworn I made no noise."

"You didn't, master. I heard Pikachu shift to accommodate you."

Pikachu had been watching me practise. Getting Pikachu back had been... Mew, it had been a huge step forward for me. I don't even know how he and Charizard found me. About six months after meeting Red I had heard the flapping of enormous wings overhead. When I'd exited the house to find out what the hell was going on, Charizard landed right in front of me and gave me a hug that damned near broke my ribs. Pikachu, riding on his back, had leapt onto my head and given me an enormous shock- his way of saying hi. I hadn't been able to speak at the time, but I found out I was still capable of laughter. And why wouldn't I be? Pikachu and Charizard were back.

And they weren't alone. Others would follow.

It wasn't a sudden thing, as they arrived in groups of no more than three, but over the years I'd been at Red's well over half of my pokemon came back to me. I didn't- couldn't- blame the ones who never came (most of those were too young or slow to make such a journey anyway) but each new arrival meant the world to me. The world may have cast me out, but my pokemon stood where they always had. By my side.

The same place I thought my friends had been.

It was a poisonous thing, hatred. Good clean anger, now that I could get behind. But I wasn't angry at them exactly... or, more accurately, I wasn't just angry at them. First I had been shocked. Then hurt. Now I was... fuck knows. I still must have felt something though, because I can feel master Red stiffen behind me.

"Calm down!" He snapped. I breath in, trying to put all thoughts of my friends aside. I can't get rid of them, but I bury them under the layers of self control that Red had taught me. It works... for now.

"You're letting hate into your aura again boy. You know where that leads."

"Nowhere I haven't already been, master."

He sighed, wearily. "Disperse." Instantly I release my aura's hold on the physical world and let the droplets fall around me.

"Darkness is a tool boy, not a vice. Use it. Shape it. Don't let it use you. Don't wallow in it."

"I try master."

"Try harder."

"Of course master."

Red sighs more deeply this time. I said I'd try, and for Red I guess I will, but both of us know I won't put much of an effort into it. The acceptable uses of my more... aggressive powers had been a long standing argument between us. Master Red liked to put up a gruff, uncaring facade, but at heart he believed in reconciliation and second chances. Speaking as someone who hadn't been granted a first chance, I had no use for such sentimental bullshit. Some people deserved salvation, and some deserved to be eradicated like the filth they were. If I had to use darkness to do it, then so be it.

Red disagreed, and that I could have dealt with. But so did Yellow, and it was damned hard to argue with the woman who put your mind back together. So I mainly kept my mouth shut and just focused on my lessons. I could have coped with Yellow thinking I was wrong, but the looks of sympathy she gave me whenever I told her what I really thought were too much to bear.

"Did you want something else, or should I get back to practise?"

"We need to talk." He muttered, refusing to meet my eyes. Well, that was a first. Red was, quite honestly, the deadliest human alive. He could have killed me in minutes using pokemon, aura, guns or fists, and we both knew it. He had never spoken to me with anything less than gentle confidence, and seeing him try to avoid my gaze was an extremely odd sensation.

"Okay... did you want to go in the house?"

"No. Yellow thought it was better that we do this alone. Walk with me?"

We walk. Most humans (if there had been any other humans on Red's island) would have never gone for a casual stroll in such a dangerous place. The two of us were perfectly safe though- there wasn't a creature alive on the whole damn island that didn't know not to fuck with Red. With me either, I suppose. The first time I had gone out without him I had been assaulted by a rabid Rhydon within literally minutes. That had worked out pretty well actually- I had made it clear to the pokemon of the island that I wasn't to be taken lightly and I'd been able to make master a nice stone fence for his garden.

Calm down, I hadn't killed it. It was just going to have an interesting time explaining to its mate where most of its tail went.

Anyway, the point was that Red and I were about as safe as any pair of humans could possibly be. The larger pokemon feared Red, feared the things that he could do... but I think they also respected him in a weird way. They knew he was powerful, they'd seen what his pokemon were capable of- hell, I'd seen his Snorlax take out a goddamned Tyranitar herd without working up a sweat- and oddly enough, they approved of him. He was worthy of them.

The smaller pokemon loved him. Even on a short walk close to home, I saw a dozen smaller pokemon come out for a pat or a scrap of food. A few of them even approached me- much more querulously, I admit- for the same thing. I smiled at them, or at least I tried to. I was unfortunately aware of the fact that what my smile had become could be politely described as a grimace, and impolitely described as a rictus. Master Red fared better. It was amazing how good he was with pokemon, and how well he understood them. Five years ago, he would have been everything I'd wanted to become. Nowadays I just wanted to survive and, hopefully, to grow. I hadn't abandoned the path of the master... but goddamn had it gotten twisty.

"Ash." Said Red, disrupting my train of thought "have you enjoyed your time here?"

"Of course I have. Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, the work is hard... and Arceus knows that there are things a man your age would probably rather be doing than training in the woods with two old people. Puberty must have been hard when the nearest girls your age are hundreds of miles away."

I glance at him strangely. We've talked about matters outside of training before, but Red had never spoken like this. Usually he encouraged me to lose myself in training, not the opposite. I would like to say that the utter ruination of my life had eliminated the usual emotional throes of puberty, and it was true... almost. I had fantasized occasionally, but all I had to go on were half-remembered images of girls I hadn't seen for five years. Besides, I didn't want to think about most of the girls I had known well enough back then to remember, for pretty obvious reasons. Mostly when the hormones hit I would just throw myself into training and try to ignore them.

"I won't pretend I've lived an easy life here master, or an average one for that matter. But I'm fine with that. There are... harder lives I could have lived. Shorter ones, anyway. And I don't mind training- I practically live for it."

"Yes. I've noticed. That is, in fact, the problem."

"What?"

"I think... I mean Yellow thinks... well, she thinks and I agree, that it might be for the best if you were to... leave."

I stop walking, stunned. Red continues on for a few paces before noticing, whereupon he stops and turns.

"Leave? I... you... master, if I've failed in some way-"

He shakes his head. "It isn't that, Ash."

"Then why?"

"Ash... look, false modesty aside, I'm probably one of the stronger trainers around."

"You're the strongest master. No 'probably' about it." I tell him with unwavering confidence. I would never have believed a person could be that strong if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.

"Well did you really think I did that in isolation? I know what it looks like now- the crazy old man and his wife living in the middle of nowhere- but I went through my journey like everyone else. I met people, made contacts... some of which I've kept. I don't keep in touch much with the four regions, but I do have sources."

I flinch at the phrase 'four regions' already scared over where I think this is going.

"So?"

"Ash... you've never talked much about your past, and I decided not to push. But I know all about who you were. Why you're here."

Fuck. No. No!

"Arceus." I hiss, slumping against a tree. "This is the trial all over again isn't it? You're kicking me out because you think I killed-"

"No!" he yells at me. "Mew no- a thousand times no boy! You think this would be the first I brought this up if I thought you'd actually done what the clowns in Kanto said you did?"

"You mean you think I'm innocent?"

"Of course you are. I know you better than that."

"Then... why? Why make me leave? For fuck's sake, I have nothing to go back to!"

"You have your friends."

I'm usually pretty good about controlling my expression, but by this point I didn't give a damn if he knew how angry I was or not.

"Them? Those... no. Words are not enough. Whatever else they may be to me, they aren't friends. Weren't friends. If you knew anything about what happened, you'd know that."

"That they betrayed you? I know boy, I know. But I've lived a lot longer than you have, and I know what fear will do to people. I know how much time a person can waste on hate. I can't tell you what to do with your, uh, former friends. To be honest, I guess I wouldn't blame you if you lined them up and killed them... but I would be disappointed in you."

"But I can't go back! I'd be shot on site if I tried!"

"Really? And you honestly think bullets are a threat to the apprentice of an aura master?"

"That's irrelevant. Just because it won't hurt me doesn't mean I want to have to kill some poor border guard who's just doing his job."

"Well, that's the thing Ash. Remember how I said I had contacts in the four regions?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, after I found out about you, I did a little digging into the incident itself. Let's just say I... advised your old friend Lance that he may have made a mistake, and pointed him in the right direction. He turned up evidence- irrefutable evidence, as a matter of fact- that it wasn't you."

"They- they what?"

"Yeah. You were officially pardoned two years ago. I didn't think at the time that I could have convinced you to leave, so I decided not to bring up old wounds until it was time for them to heal."

"Who?" I growled at him. "Who was it? Who did this to me?"

"Ash-"

"Who? Goddamn it, who?"

"I don't know Ash. I don't think Lance knew. They just proved that it wasn't you. Isn't that all that should matter?"

I turn away from him. "What about training?"

"I've taught you everything that can be taught. No man is an island Ash. To grow- to truly be what I know you can be- you need to be out in the world."

" 'No man is an island' sounds pretty damned funny coming from you."

"Hey, that's different. I brought the wife with me. Speaking of which, we're missing lunch. Shall we head back?"

* * *

><p>Lunch was a quiet affair, as was dinner. Yellow had given her husband a questioning look upon our return, to which he had merely nodded. She let out a small breath and turned to look at me, but I refused to meet her eyes. I wanted to think about this, and think I did. After a silent lunch I had returned to my room to mull everything over.<p>

Return. They wanted me to go back? Even if I wasn't wanted dead anymore I had burned all my bridges in Kanto a long time ago. My family was gone, my pokemon were here and my friends didn't want me. Why the hell would I go back?

Sitting there on my bed, I started getting angry. This was almost certainly the result of Red's goddamned honour code- or, more likely, Yellow's soppy kindness. Didn't they understand that I didn't want to see anyone again? That I'd been thrown out like trash, that there was no point in going back? Didn't they-

"_Stop this Ash. These thoughts are unworthy."_

Yeah. Yeah, I guess they were. Master's rigid code wasn't something to laugh at, and Yellow was anything but soppy. If they were sending me back, then they honestly believed that it was for the best. But that didn't make them right.

"_Of course, you don't have to go back to the four regions. All they said was that you have to leave here."_

True. But where else would I go? I was a little bit more knowledgeable about the world now than I was at fourteen, and I knew that there were civilizations outside of the four regions. There weren't many of them, but they did exist. But why go to them? I had even less reason to head to a new place than I did to go back to an old one.

"_Master, what the hell are you thinking? I don't want to go back!"_

But if I were being completely honest with myself, maybe I did. I couldn't ask to have met better people than Red and Yellow, but their house wasn't my home. I didn't have a home anymore, and that knowledge was still bitterly fresh in my mind even after half a decade. Besides, I had never really had any closure on the whole situation- I hadn't seen my friends since they condemned me, hadn't been able to convince anyone that I was innocent. The entire ordeal had been one huge wound, one that I'd done nothing to heal. Everything I'd done since was just an attempt to ignore that. Maybe Red was right. Maybe I did need to go back, if only to finally figure out how I was going to react. But holy hell was the thought of facing everything again terrifying. It was easy to ignore the hatred and the pain when I was alone, easy to train until I couldn't feel anymore. But if I had to face people again... had to actually interact with those who wronged me...

"_Arceus. I don't know if I even still possess an understanding of the the concept of forgiveness anymore, much less the empathy to grant it. What the hell am I becoming?"_

* * *

><p>Yellow cried, but only a little for which I was grateful. I stood there uncomfortably as she held me and wept, and Red stood behind us, equally uncomfortable. Both of us hated to see her sad, but we knew that she supported the decision to have me leave even more strongly that Red did.<p>

"Be a good boy." She told me hoarsely. I winced. This was far, far too reminiscent of mom: "Be a good boy, change your you-know-what" she would tell me every time I left on a journey. I wanted- Mew did I want- to tell her that I would be, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"I'll try." I told her instead. She smiled, and handed me a bulging rucksack.

"Here. It's got clothes, food, all your pokemon except Pikachu- everything a young man needs for a trip. Be safe."

I hug her again and nod. She releases me reluctantly and steps back. Red comes forward.

"I don't think the world is done with you yet boy. You might just save it again yet. Work hard, don't slack off, and try to stay out of too much trouble. Here, I got you something."

He hands me a plain white box, maybe a foot a side. I open it, and inside nested in a velvet crease is a gun. An old one, but obviously well cared for.

"We found it on you the day you came here. It's only got one bullet in it- we only found it with one- but there's another clip in your pack."

I snort, and give him the best grin I can manage. "I remember it. But it's huge- not the most subtle method of killing. I hadn't really planned to attract much attention."

"Killing?" his eyebrows arch. "Well, I guess it isn't that subtle if that's what you use it for. Just remember Ash, a weapon is only a weapon. It's what you do with it that makes it evil or good. If you learned nothing else here, you've learned that."

"Yeah. I guess I have. Goodbye master. Goodbye Yellow. I don't... I can't ever pay you back, but I can try to pay what I owe you forward."

Yellow takes my hands in hers. "Don't worry about debts, honey. Just go and live. That's all we ask."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. And before I change my mind, before I reflect on what a terrible idea this is, I turn around and vanish into the woods.

I didn't cry. Men like me do not cry. But if something got in my eyes and they were a little bit watery, can anyone blame me?

* * *

><p><strong>Meh. I don't like third person. Too much "tell", not enough "show"... but it served its purpose.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3: The Asht and the Furryous

**Some of you may have noticed some unfortunate changes to this fic, especially in this chapter. These changes are small but many, and all center around one thing: sex. You see, I've heard (and no, I can't guarantee that it's accurate, but I trust the person who told me) that there have been crack-downs on lemons at this site. Technically I haven't even written a lemon yet, but you could argue that some aspects of 'Old Wounds' are... less than family friendly. Thusly several small scenes have been changed slightly to the point where I can at least argue that they're M instead of NC-17. This has mostly involved the usage of euphemisms, and has not changed the actual plot in any way. **

**Thank you for your support.**

* * *

><p><strong>3- The Ash-t and the Furry-ous<strong>

The island that appeared on the horizon was much smaller than Red's had been, but that was probably for the best. An island that size wouldn't support large predators, and I was tired. I didn't want to spend half the night proving to the local pokemon that I was a bigger bastard than they were.

"Let's stop at that one Gyara! I want to sleep on dry land tonight!"

Master Red's Gyarados, an absolute leviathan of his species, roared in agreement. I had my own water pokemon, but Red had lent me Gyara due to his size and strength. He wouldn't tire in anything short of a hurricane, and his broad back meant I could safely sleep even while in transit. I had always preferred to use smaller pokemon that hit hard and fast, but I had to admit that Master Red's Gyarados had made this voyage a more comfortable and expedient than any of my own could have. The thought of travelling this kind of distance on, say, Feraligator was nothing short of terrifying.

"_Assuming he didn't try to play that little 'joke' where he abandons me in the middle of the ocean." _I thought, wincing at the memory of the last time I'd used him for transit. Totodile had always had his heart in the right place, but his taste in humour hadn't improved much with his evolutions. The scale of his pranks had ramped up significantly, however, meaning I never let him out unless there was someone else to watch him or he had something to focus on. He would never actually let it get to the point where someone got hurt, but he'd taken it to close too many times for me to relax around him.

"_Good with kits though. Kids seem to love him."_ Feraligator did have a way with the younger pokemon, maybe because he's never really grown up himself.

While I mused about the relative merits of my pokemon, Gyara has been edging ever closer to land. Deciding that he's gotten as close as he's willing to, he gives me a massive (but friendly- I never did work out why the fierce one's liked me) roar to let me know the ride is over. Slipping off of his back and into the shallows, I wade in towards shore just as the sun sinks below the horizon. Pikachu and I decide to pitch the tent tonight instead of just camping outside- there were clouds forming to the east as we came in, and I don't want to be caught out in a storm- so we work our way far enough into the interior of the island that the tent won't be exposed to the high winds near the beach. We leave Gyara in the water- he'll need to hunt, and if the storm bothers him he can just dive.

The island we hit was as unimpressive up close as it had looked from a distance. I doubted it was more than a few hundred meters a side, but it served my purposes fine. I didn't even know where I was exactly, except for the vague idea that I was just south of Hoenn. Red had told me that Gyara would take where I needed to go before lending him to me, and having ridden on Gyara before I had faith in his homing skills he'd get me to the four regions somehow.

Pitching the tent in darkness was no easy feat, but I did it with a sure-fingered confidence that only years of practice can instil. Red had taken me on "camping trips" before, if hiding out in the jungle and hoping nobody kills you can be called a trip. I'd actually been away from the island more than once while I'd been with Red; he'd kept taking me out for "jobs". I never asked who gave them to him or why we did the things that we did, but there was no doubt that they'd given me a pretty impressive skill set. The jobs had also brought me into contact with some of master Red's friends- almost all of them old men and women living in groups of two or three who had taught me things like Red did. So while I had been off the island before, I'd never been this far away, and I'd certainly never gotten this close to true civilization before. I'd found recently that the idea of confronting large amounts of people again was far more intimidating than meeting a few hermits in the woods, and my uneasiness would grow to the point where I wasn't sure I could go on further. But for the most part the journey had been a great one- the weather had stayed relatively peaceful up until recently, and the sight of Pikachu enjoying the sea breeze served to calm me when the doubts got bad. I wasn't scared of rejoining society really... I was just scared of what I might do when I had. Pikachu helped serve as an anchor. Red and Yellow had been constant presences in my new life, helping to remind me who I was and why I shouldn't give in. Now that they were behind me and the unknown was in front, Pikachu helped keep me stable.

Of course, that didn't mean I'd let him hog the blankets. Shoving him to one side, I climb into my sleeping bag and get ready for bed. It's peaceful here- it's quiet, I'm warm, and the rain that had started up whispers quietly against the side of my tent- but I'm not really sleepy. Turning to Pikachu, I begin to talk.

"Where do you think we are buddy? This looks a lot like southern Hoenn, right?"

"Chaa!"

"Heh. Yeah, I remember. We got our asses kicked at Ever Grande, didn't we?"

"Pi."

"Wonder what they'd say if they could see us now? We'll have to do a little ass kicking on our own when we get back. I'd better make sure that Infernape gets the chance to kick Paul's ass when we get back."

Pikachu smiles a little hesitantly. I'm doing my best to keep the conversation light, but not even he could have missed the anger in my tone. That was the first time I'd said Paul's name in half a decade, and I sure didn't say it jovially. Pikachu nips at my ear lightly, breaking me out of my darker thoughts.

"Think it's time to open it? Red just said we had to be close."

Pikachu pauses then nods. When I had left Red had given me two envelopes, one sealed with a blob of crimson wax and the other with yellow wax. It didn't take a genius to figure out who they were from, but he'd told me I couldn't open them until I got close to the four regions. I suppose that I'd achieved that days ago- the more I thought about it, the more this place seemed to resemble southern Hoenn- but I'd decided to give it a margin and wait to open up the packages. But I guess now is as good a time as any.

After obtaining Pikachu's agreement, I proceeded to snap the seal and open up the first envelope. Inside are a few pieces of paper with Red's messy handwriting scrawled on them. Sitting up I begin to read:

_Boy:_

_There are a lot of things I need to say to you, not all of which I can mention to Yellow. Part of that is her- I try to keep some of the messier details of our lives and our work away from her because I love her- but most of it is us. There are things that have to be said between student and teacher, and they aren't for anyone's ears but our own._

_Firstly I wanted to tell you I'm damn proud of what you've accomplished. You aren't the shiniest Magikarp in the sea, but when you set your mind to something you damned well get it done. I can respect that. With time, and a whole lot of luck, you may even rise to the level of a master. Don't get a swelled head boy- lots of people have talent and you've still got a ways to go yet. Bearing that in mind, I'd say you have a better chance than most. You've got the skill and the drive for it anyway._

_But Ash, I can tell you from personal experience that drive and skill aren't enough. If that's all you've got, then at best you'll fail... and at worst you'll succeed in the worst way imaginable. It almost happened to me before I met Yellow, and you've got a damned sight less to stabilize you than I ever did. Yellow's a lot better with this touchy-feely crap than I am, so I'll leave it to her letter to explain it to you fully, but you can't keep living this way. Hatred and paranoia will only get you so far boy. Oh don't start up with the denial- you're whole "yes master, of course master" routine wasn't fooling anybody. We can both tell how angry you are with everyone you used to be close to. Neither one of us blames you for it, but you need to deal with it nonetheless._

_To that effect, I've decided to give you a little push in the right direction. Gyara is taking you to an old friend of mine who still maintains a summer home south of Hoenn. Well, I guess Gyara will be taking you to his daughters actually- the old man isn't too active these days. I don't know if it'll be Lanette or Brigette who's there right now, but tell either one of them that Red sent you and they'll get you off on the right foot. Once you're done there get to the Hoenn mainland. I don't know who killed your mother, but your old friend Scott has been forming an interregional anti-crime team that might have some info. Hit him up, see what he knows._

_Go get your head sorted and your hands dirty boy. Come back when you've got a life and I'll buy you a drink._

_-Red_

Chuckling softly, I put the letter back in its envelope. That was Red through and through alright. Breaking the seal on the yellow envelope, I slide out a second letter and began to read.

_Ash_

_After long consideration, Red and I decided that there are some things that need to be said only in private. To that effect, neither one of us is reading the others' letter, but believe me when I say I am familiar with Red's _modus operandi. _I don't need to see his letter to know what he's written, and I hope you realize that most of it is bullshit. I know for a fact that he didn't mention that he loves you like a son, so let me take the opportunity now to assure you that he does, and that I do as well. We'll be proud of you no matter what happens, and I hope you see that we've sent you away only because we want you to have a better life than you could have had with us._

_Now onto more practical considerations: sex._

_Don't you dare stop reading Ash! This is important, and you will read it all. I know this is uncomfortable for you dear, but Red refused to have the talk with you so I guess it's up to me. The both of us have lived away from society for a long time, and I think Red may have forgotten what a huge role human sexuality plays in everyday interactions. Dumping you into the middle of a bunch of people your own age with no prior warning would be cruel, so I've taken some steps to prepare you for re-entry into mainstream society._

_Firstly, there's your pokedex. I don't know if Red told you, but that's why he's sending you to the girls' house- they're some of the few people who didn't betray you who are authorized to issue you a pokedex and get you back into the league's computers as an active trainer. Brigette is a little shy despite her own "tastes" (I think you'll appreciate that I can't violate her privacy by getting into that) but Lanette has never been shy about sex. I've asked her to upload a few... educational videos into your pokedex behind Brigette's back. I want you to watch all of them, okay? You're an attractive young man, Ash, and despite the stamina your training has given you, you'll still need to know what to do with a girl when you get one._

_Secondly I've provided you with access to your own account at the first bank of Kanto, and I've topped it up a little. Do not even think about letting it sit there unused! You deserve every cent of it for putting up with Red for so long, and it isn't even a fraction of our personal wealth. I'm assuming that Red hasn't given you any money. I'm sorry dear, he means well but he's been a loner for too long. He has no idea how important money is these days._

_Finally, I've provided you with a list (it's the last sheet in this envelope) of people who will help you if you need it. Some of them may be familiar to you- pass on my regards to Miss Shirona if you get the chance- but all of them are friends of mine. If you tell them I sent you, they'll all help readily enough._

_Good luck sweetheart. Please find yourself. Love,_

_-Yellow_

I turn to Pikachu, mildly horrified. "Please... please tell me I read that wrong."

He laughs at me and shakes his head.

"She's almost old enough to be my grandmother! She didn't just tell me to go... ughh, never mind."

I shove the letter back into its envelope, trying not to connect the words I had just read with the cheerful, motherly woman who had written them. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Yellow's plans to get me up to speed with society's more... amorous aspects were all for naught. My first confrontations with the more intimate aspects of human behaviour were to come less than twenty four hours after I opened the letter, long before I even set foot in the four regions.

* * *

><p>Pikachu and I woke up early the next morning. Part of that was a desire to get going- If I was going to have to return then I didn't want to prolong the experience- but most of it was insomnia. I'd stopped screaming in my sleep years ago, but that didn't make the dreams go away and it certainly didn't make them less awful. Over the years I'd developed insomnia as a sort of mental defence against my own subconscious, and I rarely slept past five these days. Pikachu hated that- despite his typing he's always been a bit lethargic- but he woke up at the same time so that I wouldn't have to wait. The two of us strike camp, carefully packing up the shelter and heading back to the waterline. The storm of the previous evening hadn't amounted to much, just a few millimetres of rain and some light winds, and the sea is calm again as I shout for Gyara to come pick us up. Responding to my cries, the massive Gyarados bursts out of the water and gives an enormous yawn. Five years ago I would have shit my pants at that- Gyara's mouth has more teeth than any other I've ever seen- but today I just greet him cordially and stroke his flank a little before crawling on his back and asking him to take off. He does, taking off into the water with a single powerful sweep of his tail. As usual, the voyage is a smooth one- the weather is fine, and what kind of Pokemon is going to take on something Gyara's size?<p>

Just because the voyage is smooth doesn't make it fast though. Gyara's top speed is a lot higher than this, but he can't hit unless he's fully immersed. With passengers on his back who need to breathe, his pace, though impressive, is still slow enough that it's very late before we hit land again. This island is much more impressive than the last island for a lot of reasons, although the most obvious one is the fact that it's lit up with electrictricity. We can't be in Hoenn yet, we haven't come far enough, but we must be close. This is probably one of those fringe settlements, and as Gyara heads straight for it I suspect it's the one where I'm supposed to pick up my pokedex.

Gyara swims to the leeward side of the island, the side on which most of the lights are located. I glare at him- this is almost certainly Red's doing, an attempt to make me go through the town instead of around- but if Gyara even notices he doesn't show it. He just swims along placidly, grinding into the beach and depositing me on the sand. I turn to face him, regarding him a little pensively.

"I can get a boat from here, can't I?"

Gyara nods.

"That's what Red wants me to do, isn't it? Rather than taking you I mean."

Another nod.

"Then I guess this is goodbye. Take care Gyara... and watch yourself on the trip back. It's a rough world."

He smiles- a truly frightening sight if you haven't seen it before- and nuzzles himself against my outstretched hand before flipping over and disappearing underneath the waves. I watch the ripples move on the spot he just vacated before deciding that I'm just stalling. I pull my hood over as far as it will go, obscuring my face, and begin to make my way up the beach.

Luckily there aren't many people out tonight. It isn't that late- probably about eleven- but this place definitely has a "beach resort" feel to it, and most of the people who are awake are either too drunk to notice me or have sequestered themselves in one of the nightclubs. I'm surprised- extremely surprised- to find anyplace this nice outside of the four region's territory, but the presence of someone who can hook me up with a pokedex suggests that someone has a pretty hefty private investment in this place. Probably some Hoenn VIP bought the island in the last year or so, and decided to build some entertainment for his buddies. There are bars, nightclubs, even a-

Holy crap. They even have a pokecenter.

I shake my head in wonder. I'd never thought I'd see one of those outside the four regions- hell, the governments are the ones that pay for them. Hoenn must be planning to annex this island soon or else they wouldn't have subsidized one- I guess the regions have been expanding recently. I decide to go in- If anyone can point me in the right direction, they're here.

I'm hit by a wave of nostalgia as the automatic doors hiss open. This center is a little different than what I'm used to- more ornate and less functional due to this place's status as a vacation spot- but it still has the same shitty couches, the same vidphones, and the same Nurse Joy. One of them stands at the counter reading a magazine, and... oh man.

Since when do Nurse Joys look so good?

It struck me then that the eyes of a twenty year old man pick up on things that the gaze of a fourteen year old boy would miss. The curve of her hips, the gentle swell of her bust beneath her smock... you know, important things. This Nurse Joy was a young one, probably no older than I. She had undoubtedly caught the late shift due to her youth, and didn't look too interested in her post- in fact, she was reading some sort of fashion magazine. I'd forgotten to make some noise on my approach to her station- walking silently was a habit that was going to be hard to break- so I had to cough to get her attention. Yelping, she dropped her magazine.

"Huh, wha? No mom, I wasn't- oh, s-sorry, can I help you? Here at the pokecenter we heal your-"

"I am familiar with the uses of a pokecenter, nurse. I was wondering if you could direct me to the house of either Lanette or Brigette?"

"The storage box researchers? They vacation at the big house on the cliffs- I think only Brigette's there right now."

"Thank you."

Bowing slightly, I walk out of the pokecenter and into the night. I head off towards the area of the island with cliffs... but not before looking over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of the young Nurse Joy's backside as she bent over to collect her magazine. Yellow was right- if I keep reacting to girls like this, it's going to become a problem. Maybe I will study those "educational videos"...

Grinning to myself, I walked on.

* * *

><p>It was a beach house. A nice one, I'll give it that, but not what I thought I'd find a serious pokemon researcher living in. Still it had a great view of the ocean, and where you live has no real bearing on how good a researcher you are- Professor Oak practically lived in a maze of pizza boxes and instant ramen cups. I guess I shouldn't make assumptions about the Brigette person until I meet her.<p>

Intent on doing just that, I step up onto the portico and ring the doorbell. A jaunty little tune plays, and I sit there and wait.

And wait. And wait.

I try the doorbell two more times, but they get no more response than the first attempt. She has to be in- I can see her car in the driveway- so I open the screen door and knock on the main one. Still no response. Well, what the hell do I do now? I could try again tomorrow, but it looked like she was in now. I doubt she'd slept through my knocking, so why ignore me?

"Well Pikachu? Magic time?"

Pikachu nods, then springs off my shoulders. He runs to the front of the driveway, ready to call out if we have company. I'm about to use aura and he knows I don't want any witnesses. Pressing my hand flat against the lock, I close my eyes and concentrate. An image begins to form...

Wood. Old wood- it was pine once I think. Embedded in it is the metal core of the lock, a four tumbler system. Reaching out with my mind I begin to whisper.

"Lift... lift and turn..."

The first tumbler shoots up, closely followed by the second and third. The fourth one is slower off the mark, but eventually lifts into position. With that accomplished, I rotate all four of them and the lock clicks open.

"Got it buddy. Let's go see what's what."

Pulling a knife out of my boot with one hand and grabbing Lance's gun in the other- firing a gun that large one-handed is not something I would recommend to the aura-uninitiated, by the way- I slip into the house. It looks occupied- the lights are on, and I can see the wrappers of someone's fast-food dinner on the table- but I can't see or hear any people. I sweep through the ground floor once, but don't come across anyone.

"I got nothing." I whisper to Pikachu. "You?"

He shakes his head, but then sniffs the air and points downwards.

"Basement?"

He nods. I wince. It's stupid I know, but I'd watched too many horror movies as a kid to trust basements. Hell, I'd lived out my own horror movie before meeting Red.

I find the access door to the basement and slip down as quietly as I can. I leave Pikachu upstairs- he's my rearguard and my backup if this goes south. Halfway down I hear a moan and tense up... but it didn't sound like the person responsible was in pain. Steeling myself, I hit the bottom step and turn, lifting my gun-

And froze.

Part of me admired Brigette's ingenuity and technical skill. Part of me admired her body. A lot of me, however, was simply shocked.

In the center of the room was a table, and on the table Brigette lay spread-eagled. At least, I'm going to assume it was Brigette. Her face was covered with a black latex mask, so I couldn't be sure, but it was her house so it was probably her. The mask wasn't modeled after a human, however- no, it seemed to be a canid of some sort. It was attached to a collar around her neck and it pushes out around her mouth, making a muzzle-like shape. The mask did have eye-holes, but a thick black blindfold that wrapped around her head made sure she couldn't see. The muffled grunting sounds emanating from the muzzle suggested an internal gag somewhere, and the entire ensemble was crested with a long pair of floppy black ears-

"_Umbreon." _I thought through my shock. _"Gary had one. She's supposed to be... oh Arceus."_

Despite my shock, I was actually fairly impressed. Brigitte had singlehandedly managed to trap herself in a position that must be both titillating and, at the same time, utterly hopeless. I could see no visible means of escape, and the girl herself looked exhausted, as if she'd been trapped for hours. Funny that- it didn't look like a position that was meant to be maintained... you'd think her partner would have let her out a lot sooner. It was that thought that caused me to observe the room more closely, at which point I spotted the computer equipment by the far wall.

It's funny what our minds will seize on when we don't understand the world, isn't it? When I, a young man with absolutely no experience with girls, was confronted with one of the most unexpected and explicit of sexual scenes, my mind slipped back to my training. I treated the whole thing as a combat situation- stay cool, observe the problem and react accordingly. So it was with a surprising level of calm that I approached the computer terminal at the side of the room. Red didn't like computers- didn't really like any technology younger than he was- but Yellow had recognized their importance and had made sure I knew how to use one. Of course, I'd had to learn off of a decades old PC while it was powered by one of Yellow's electric pokemon, but I did know how to use one.

_UsReq: Identify current routine._

_OSRep: Routine "Downtime" initiated._

_UsReq: Clarify previous input (set: routine runtime)=?_

_OSRep: 00:00:20:00_

_UsReq: Current routine runtime?_

_OSRep: 00:05:47:22_

I winced. It was clear now that there was no partner- the computer has orders to release the shackles on her arms after a set period of time, and from there she could get out herself. But nearly six hours? She'd set it for twenty minutes and something must have gone wrong. Closing my eyes and focusing, I can feel her fear- the fear that she's trapped, that she'll die here. That isn't all there is though; no, even through the fear I can feel her lust. She's trapped- she knows it- but she still can't stop being human. Taking pity on her, I decide to fix this- the only question is how to do it without terrifying her. Walking over to the table I tap her bare shoulder, trying to be as gentle as I could. She... well, she freaks out. Screaming through the gag, she writhes back and forth, trying to get away from me. This is a spectacular failure of course- it just causes her to contort painfully, eliciting more screams. Gritting my teeth, I grab her shoulder and try to pour as much reassurance into her as I could. It works on rabid pokemon sometimes- infuse them with a little of your aura, and if you mean them no harm they may calm down. Once she's finally still I reach behind her head and unzip the mask enough that I can have access to one of her ears. I pull the earplug out (total sensory deprivation- I guess she doesn't do things half way).

"Look." I whisper. "I'm a friend. I think you're computer fucked up- it looks like a minor power surge caused a subroutine to fail and so the timer locked without releasing. Do you understand? Just nod."

She nods, slowly. Her chest goes up and down as her breathing gets faster, and I realize that I need to get out of here before I jump on her. Goddamned abbreviated puberty...

"Okay. I'm going to set it to release in one minute, then I'm going to go to your living room. I need to talk to you about something, but it can wait until you've showered. Do you think you can get out by yourself if I did that?"

She nods again, more emphatically this time.

"Okay. If I can't hear anything from down here, or if you take more than forty-five minutes, I'm coming back to make sure you're okay."

I back off from the table, run up the stairs, and head to living room. Well, I do make one detour- I hit up the kitchen to grab some cold water. I don't know if I intend to drink it or pour it down my pants, but either way I think I'll need it.

While I'm pouring the water, I hear a click and a whirring noise from downstairs. That must the release catch. I go to the living room, and for the next few minutes I hear a few thumps from downstairs. Then- about fifteen minutes after I released her- I can hear Brigette launch herself up the basement stairs and head to the upstairs floor. I hear the gushing noise of a shower being turned on and relax- she must be okay.

After forty minutes, just as I'm about to go upstairs to check on her, I hear her coming down. She rounds the corner and comes face to face with me-

"_Zoey-"_

No. I unclench my fists. It isn't Zoey, not quite, but the similarities are eerie. Then again, I don't think I've ever seen Zoey wear a lab coat... and Zoey's never stared at the floor blushing like mad because I caught her in a self bondage experiment.

"Hey." I cough. "I'm Ash."

She doesn't look up, but shakes my hand nonetheless.

"Brigette." She mumbles. "Nice to meet you."

* * *

><p><strong>Ha! Thought I was going for a serious fic did you? Well, you are half right.<strong>

**Yes, yes, laugh at the ridiculous scene. This scene also had a point beyond titillation, however. This story is primarily about redemption- Ash's attempts to find meaning in the world that got away from him- but it's also about human values. Ash hasn't grown up in the normal world, and doesn't share its preconceptions. He therefore finds himself completely unprepared for a world where sex and money are all important, and part of this story is him learning to accept himself as a sexual being. The scene with the Joy got Ash into the swaggering fifteen year-old mindset: "Hell yeah I understand life!" and then Brigette shocked him into the more mature: "Wait, fuck, no I don't!"**

**Wrap that up in pseudo-psychological bullshit and smoke it.**

**PS- I didn't make Brigette or Lanette up. Bulbapedia them.**


	4. Chapter 4: Bad Cop, Worse Cop

**Alright guys, I'm going to level with you. I've been chewing over this next update for a while now, trying to improve it, and it just doesn't seem to be working. Chapters 4, 5 and 6... well, I'm not really disappointed with them, but I think they could be better. But I'm sick as hell and school's ramping up again, so I think if I delay them any longer they'll just get worse, not better. Still, I'm not uploading chapter six yet... I'm really not happy with that one. Give me some time to mull it over.**

**To my reviewers:**

**E-123 Omega mk2: Yeah, I like Brigette. Not really sure why. Ash's reaction to his friends will be... mixed, to say the least. He's pissed, but also tired of being alone.**

**Cortega: Glad you enjoyed it old chap.**

**Mach68: You're suggestion is slightly more blunt than what I had in mind, but it neatly encapsulates the general idea. But I'm also trying to portray the idea that Ash is hurt- he's human, not just a hate machine.**

**Demilich: You're right, I can't name a dozen. That makes me feel a little better.**

**DBZFTW: Thanks. I do my best.**

**Cyberbeta: We already spoke via PM. Hopefully this next update will answer some questions/concerns. I look forwards to your next review.**

**EXTRA NOTE: I have no idea why chapters 4, 5 and 6 did not upload correctly. I have them in the right format (story, not docx), they show up in the Doc Manager... I'm trying to re-upload, but I have no idea what's gone wrong.**

* * *

><p><strong>4- Bad Cop, Worse Cop<strong>

Scott put the phone back into its cradle and began counting to ten under his breath. It was a trick his predecessor had taught him to help deal with anger- not to curtail the rage, no, but to force him to stop and think before he unleashed it. Anger could be a good motivator, but it did tend to affect judgement rather poorly.

One of his aides gave him a sympathetic look. "I take it the league was uncooperative sir?"

Scott sighed, and then rested his head against the back of his chair.

"Uncooperative is the polite term, yes. I can think of a few stronger ones. Is there something about high office that attracts stuck-up assholes, or do you think they all end up there by accident?"

"I was under the impression that Champion Stone-"

Scott shook his head. "Steven is okay. It's just that he has his hands tied by red tape- I swear they make him fill out a form every time he goes to the bathroom. What's the latest take from Sinnoh?"

"No change yet sir. A lot of rumours, a lot of fear, but so far no movement. Their Champion keeps insisting everything is fine."

"He would. Goddamn I wish Cynthia were still in. Has she unearthed anything new?"

"Not yet sir, but her contacts have been diminished since her... 'retirement'. I think she'll have more for us once she establishes a new network."

"That could take months."

"Maybe, but I don't think so. The league can say whatever it wants; she still has the gym leaders and most of the population on her side. I don't think that former Champion Shirona is going to be as cut off as the league would like."

"Good. What about Lance?"

"Still running down that lead in Fuchsia. He'll be out of contact for a day or two."

Scott grunted, satisfied that he had done as much as he could. Back when he had first got the job as Hoenn's head of Internal Security, he'd been amused at how well his job as director of the Battle Frontier had fit in with his new duties. The Frontier, while not precisely secret, definitely had better security than the League, and his experience with the usual bureaucratic bullshit that accompanied any large organization had served him well in dealing with his new role. Of course, back when he had started, it had all been so easy. Keep Aqua and Magma at bay, run down the occasional smuggler... nothing too unusual. Now he considered any day where Hoenn didn't explode from within to be a good day.

Scott sighed wearily before placing a written copy of his report in the 'out' basket. It was bad news- everything seemed to be these days- and he was glad to see the back of it. Not that shifting it from pile to pile was actually going to change anything, but at least when the world went to hell he could tell his bosses he'd warned them.

The report had contained, among other things, a summary of some extremely worrying signs from the criminal gangs in the four regions. Aqua and Magma he could have dealt with- Archie and Maxie were bastards, but at least they had understood that there were rules that even criminals had to play by. Furthermore, Scott had experience dealing with them, and direct action was often unnecessary- they were so busy fighting each other that they never got anything done. But then, several years ago, the Rockets had crept in from Kanto, and they made their own rules. A decade ago, Scott would have laughed at the idea of politically motivated assassination, but today? He'd foiled more than one Rocket hitman, and he was sure there were others he had missed. Even worse, there was Team Galactic in Sinnoh and this new 'Team Plasma' in Unova, and those two were just fucking insane. Cyrus and Ghetsis seemed to be several Taillow short of a flock, and they attracted other fanatics to their cause. Hoenn was relatively peaceful compared to the other regions- for now, at least- but Archie and Maxie weren't idiots. Rockets and Plasmas and Galactics were spilling over the borders left and right, and sooner or later Aqua and Magma were going to have to start taking sides. To think that there could be a gang war in his region...!

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to relax. It wasn't exactly like Hoenn was defenceless- he still had Steven and the Elite Four on his side, and Cynthia and Lance had been resolute allies in the fight against the gangs. But, as unthinkable as the thought was, even the champions might not be enough anymore. It was true they were strong, but they were bound by even more rules than he was... and there was only the three of them. The league was still the strongest organization in the four regions, but if someone like Cyrus decided that martyrdom was better than inactivity and decided to bring the fight out in the open... well, things would get messy. Scott was not particularly a man of principle- considering his job, he'd needed to throw most of his principles out the window years ago- but he was still technically on the good side, and he drew the line at involving civilians. His whole organization was created just to avoid such a situation, and he wasn't about to let a bunch of petty criminals go rampaging around in his streets.

Which, he noted sourly, begged the question: What was he going to do about it?

Sighing rather more heavily this time, he rolled his chair back and forth and glanced around his office. He'd always adhered to the principle that the boss should be the hardest working employee in any venture, and so his spacious office was crammed full of computer equipment, printouts, notebooks and endless half empty cups of coffee. Hoenn's future had been secured more than once in this room, and it had quickly become the nerve center of the entire bureau. Scott smiled despite himself. While his office might officially be titled the "Director's office and central hub complex" his employees had long ago nicknamed it the "Fat Cave". He mused momentarily over whether they'd meant that as a compliment or an insult (he'd never brought it up- they still didn't know he knew) before being distracted as his phone went off.

Scott straightened immediately, expecting the worst. He wouldn't have been nearly as concerned if it had been his cell phone, or one of the phones around the office- many people had the number for the former so that he could be kept in touch with the goings on of the Battle Frontier, and most of the Bureau had the latter number so that they could make routine reports when it was safe. The phone that rang this time, however, was the hard-line mounted on his desk. It was a last resort number for his agents; a direct link to him to be used only when no other means of communication were safe enough or quick enough to get him critical information. The phone was secured to hell and gone, and he only gave out the number to his oldest and most trusted colleagues. None of them would have called him on that line for anything less than a critical situation. That meant something bad was about to happen... or was already happening. He quickly snatched up the phone.

"What?" he rapped out, a model of efficiency. He didn't waste time with a greeting- if an op had gone south, he needed to know. Now.

"Hmm. You sound more direct than I remember. I guess being a spook really brings out the best in you, huh Scott?"

Scott's pulse quickened. He gestured to one of his secretaries, who proceeded to tap a few quick keystrokes into the computers hooked up to the communication system. Whoever this was it wasn't one of his men- none of them would have used his name. Someone must have been burned. The secretary began to issue whispered instructions to her colleagues, and the office turned into a flurry of activity. Alarms began to go up- small ones for now, but his people were ready to escalate depending on the situation. Nodding to his team, he spoke into the receiver.

"I don't negotiate. Say what you want and then go to hell."

"I'm not a terrorist Scott. And I haven't touched any of your agents. I just want to talk. I think you're going to want to talk to me."

"Sure thing. I'll get the electrodes warmed up."

"Such a kidder. Tell me Scott, what would the press think if I brought them the info on Operation Desert Feebas? Or how about Operation Shroud? You lost some men, I believe."

Scott winced. Desert Feebas had involved bringing down a group that had murdered dozens of people in Hoenn. Taking down murderers was nothing new to Scott- his bosses had absolutely no problem with him using lethal force if he deemed it necessary. The problem was where he'd done it- just outside of Cianwood in Johto. The perps had fled there after leaving Hoenn, and he'd been told to drop it- he had no jurisdiction in other regions- but when it became clear that his counterpart in Johto couldn't care less about a few Hoenn deaths, Scott had taken quiet but effective action. Operation Shroud was even worse in some ways- one of Scott's own agents had betrayed him and gone rogue. They'd hunted the man down eventually... after he'd already killed four of Scott's other men and seven civilians. Scott's anxiety ratcheted up another few notches. He could count the number of agents who'd been on both ops on one hand, and they were some of his most senior operatives. If one of them had been taken...

"Quit talking. Who do you have and what do you want?"

"No one. I haven't touched your agents. I have... other means of gathering information. And I was just trying to convince you I was serious- I don't want press involved in this anymore than you do."

"Than what do you want?"

"Just to talk to you. A simple appointment."

"You can make appointments at the front desk. You wouldn't need to call me unless you had a reason."

"Very true. Let's just say that your security is quite good. If I just tried to walk through the front door, all kinds of alarms would start going off. I think we can both agree it would be better for both of us if I didn't have to fight my way through all the cops you have posted in the lobby. All I want is to talk to you."

"We're talking now."

"No. Face to face. I don't trust you enough to do this over the phone."

"So let me get this straight. You want me to lower my security so that a potential threat can enter my headquarters and get within striking distance of me? Not a chance."

"If I wanted you dead you'd already be dead."

"That's the best reassurance you can give me? Again, no deal. Why should I talk with you? What are you offering?"

"A second chance Scott. Consider yourself lucky- I don't intend to give others one so easily. But then again, I didn't truly expect you to trust me immediately. You wouldn't be very good at your job if you did, hmm? I suppose I'll have to offer a... well, a token of my good intentions."

"You have nothing to offer me."

"Incorrect. I have much to offer you in the long run... but, more immediately, I can offer you the life of one of your gym leaders."

"You- what?"

"You're about to get hit. I'm not sure who by yet- they funnelled the money through too many shell companies- but one of your gym leaders is about to get taken out."

Scott grimaced. He had absolutely no reason to trust the mystery informant yet, but if this guy wanted to be taken seriously then he wouldn't lie. More to the point, Scott hadn't heard so much as a whisper of the Gym Leaders being targeted, meaning that either his extensive net of contacts had failed him, or else the enemy had found a way to avoid detection. It was a tossup as to which possibility was more unpleasant.

"Who, where and when?"

"Flannery in Lavaridge, and they've probably already started to move."

"What!"

"Do you have any idea how fast I had to move to get this info? I would have warned you earlier if I'd known. I'm guessing you don't have a team in place, but relax, I'll take care of her. Think of it as a gift of sorts. Just make sure whoever you send here first can keep their mouth shut. I don't intend to be particularly... clean about this."

Behind Scott, the caller had set a frenzy of activity into motion. Half of his team were already hard at work tracing the call- he saw out of the corner of his eye that they seemed to be having some difficulty- and the other half was busy contacting various authorities in Lavaridge regarding their Gym Leader's safety. Scott, seeing that he was, for the moment, unnecessary, decided to indulge his own curiosity.

"Who the hell is this?"

There was a momentary silence, and then what sounded like a sigh.

"Trust me when I say you wouldn't believe me if I told you. If there were any other way to-"

The voice had cut itself off. "What is it?" Scott asked.

"I need to shift position- I'm going to have to find her before I can save her. Goodbye, Scott- I need to focus now."

"Make sure she's-" Scott burst out, before realizing that the line had already gone dead. Shaking his head, he turned back to his office.

* * *

><p>"<em>Well? Did he believe you?"<em>

"That isn't how this works." I whispered hoarsely into the headset. The small earpiece/microphone that Brigette had presented me with before I took my leave of her house was the simplest and most advantageous way to keep in contact with her for several reasons. Firstly it was safe- Brigette had built it herself, and it had an encrypted link that led straight to her home computer. Secondly it was low profile- cell-phone technology had advanced somewhat while I'd been gone, so who was going to notice one more headset these days? Finally, and most importantly, it clipped directly onto my ear, leaving my hands free for... other activities.

Currently "other activities" consisted of clinging to a brick wall five stories up. It wasn't an ideal vantage point for a lot of reasons- not the least of which was that my arms were getting tired- but it was the best one I could find. Lavaridge had grown a lot since I'd been here last, and most of the development had gone so fast that it built up around the older parts of the city rather than replacing them. That meant the city was an irregular mess of old stonework and newer high-rises, necessitating that I get a high vantage point to be able to keep track of the target.

"_Well how does it work?"_

"Look, nobody is going to believe me if I call them up and say: 'Hey, It's Ash! I know I've been dead for a while, but I'm back!' I have to send Scott a message he can't ignore."

"_Alright, don't get cranky. This just seems like kind of a complicated plan- you know I can get you a meeting with him right?"_

"You can, can you? On neutral ground? With none of his security around? A meeting with a dead guy who has a lot of reasons to hate him?"

"_Well..."_

"That's what I thought. Any luck contacting Flannery?"

"_No. Her phone is still off."_

"Damn. Alright, I'm going higher."

"_The moon is up tonight, Ash- you'll be visible against the skyline." _Brigette warned.

"I know, I know. But if we can't warn Flannery then we're going to have to be ready to move as soon as we spot her- we won't have much of a window once they strike. Any luck with the satellite?"

"_You're kidding, right? In a city this size? Finding one girl is going to be hard unless we know where she'll be in advance."_

"Have you checked with the Grandfather?"

Brigette laughed. _"Ash, please. I know this family, okay? Flannery would never tell her Grandfather what she's _actually_ doing on a Friday night. Probably told him she was going to 'study at a friend's house'."_

I grunted in acknowledgement before turning my back on the cityscape and climbing higher on the building. It was a fairly easy climb- this building was all shoddily laid brickwork, and the crenulations and gaps that provided made excellent holds. Reaching the apex in no time, I slung one foot over onto the roof, then pulled upwards and rolled. The momentum swung my body upwards and over, and I took a moment to make sure the rooftop was clear before heading to the edge and glancing down. From this vantage point I could see a large swath of the city, but there was still no sign of any disturbance. I sighed in frustration. Aura was a damn useful power to have, but it wouldn't help me locate a single girl in a city this size. I might have been able to do it if I could get hold of something she owned, but we'd really been caught flat footed with this one- the information that Flannery was going to be attacked was incredibly hard to root out, and Brigette and I had had to rush to get in place in time. I hadn't had a chance to get into contact with anyone but Scott before I'd had to move.

Muttering in frustration, I try to think of some way to find her. Saving Flannery won't be a problem, it's just a matter of getting to her in time.

"Brigette, do you have access to the police computers?"

"_Sure, but what good would that do? Even if the police believed us, it would take too long to-"_

"No, I wasn't thinking about contacting them. You said that Flannery was a bit... wild?"

"_The girl knows how to have fun, that's for sure. Drinking, clubbing... nothing hardcore, but she's definitely not new to the entertainment scene. Why?"_

"Check the police blotters for parties. They'd keep tabs on anything big, right?"

There was a very brief pause silence before Brigette spoke up again. She might not be the wisest of people when it came to her own safety, but she was damnably good with computers.

"_Okay, I'm in. Looks like it's been a busy night in Lavaridge: three DUI's, six disorderly conducts... ah!"_

"What?"

"_Major concert in a club downtown. There's no way Flannery would miss this."_

"When is it set to end?"

"_That isn't how this works." _She replied teasingly. When I didn't respond to her jibe she sighed. _"These kind of events usually end when enough of the crowd has passed out to call it a night. It was technically supposed to finish an hour ago, but from what I can see on the security cameras it looks like it's just wrapping up now."_

"Directions?"

She gave them to me and I started to move. Carefully edging of off the roof and onto the ledge just below, I began to make my way from building to building via extensive use of fire escapes and power lines. It was slow, but it gave me an excellent view of the streets, and a very direct route to the target if I needed to move fast-

"_Ash!"_ cried Brigette in panic.

"What?"

"_She's left the club- I just got her on the satellite. Flannery's moving, but in the wrong direction."_

"I'm sorry?"

"_She's heading into the old quarter, away from the gym... and she isn't alone."_

Foregoing stealth, I hauled myself up once more and began to jump from roof to roof.

"Just tell me where." I hissed into the headset, already slipping into the heightened state of awareness I would need for combat.

* * *

><p>Overall it had been a great night, mused Flannery as she staggered down yet another dark alleyway. The concert had had a lot to do with that. The liquor was cheap and the bands were... well, loud enough that whether they were good or not didn't matter. By the time the shitty bands had come on she was too drunk to give a damn about the music, so it had all worked out. Most of her night had been spent gyrating furiously on the dance floor, screaming her lungs out. Flannery had long ago discovered the secret to fitting in at such occasions: If you were female and willing to wear a certain type of clothing, then nobody gave a damn whether you could dance or not. If you'd chosen the proper outfit, the boys weren't going to be looking at your feet anyway.<p>

Flannery prided herself in choosing the right clothing for such events, but had been slightly put out that none of the males at the concert had been worth it. She had elected to wear this evening a 'modified' version of her usual black shirt with the Lavaridge gym symbol in the middle- this shirt was far tighter and significantly higher-cut than her usual one, and both her father and Grandfather would have had conniptions if they knew she'd been wearing something that revealed so much midriff. She'd also replaced her usual jeans with a pair that was darker and rode lower- low enough so that the ties of the small dark thong she'd worn tonight were just visible. Flannery herself referred to the outfit as her battle gear, although her friends liked to call it her 'cock-teasing suit' in order to piss her off. In her more introspective moments Flannery might have admitted that her outfit did straddle the line between 'healthily promiscuous' and 'slut' a little too closely, but the clothes made her feel powerful and attractive, and to her that was all that mattered. They also got her plenty of attention, and Flannery revelled in the stuff. Reputation of the gym be damned- when she danced all eyes were on her, and when she had strut over to the bar the gazes had followed. Flannery had slunk up to the bar and sat down grinning, content in the knowledge that she had set the bait and that the men would soon begin to bite. Unfortunately, in her enthusiasm for the night Flannery had forgotten that the male libido is not the most complicated force in existence, and cannot be appealed to selectively. It was an all or nothing process, and her performance on the dance floor seemed to have attracted every freak in the bar.

Alright, maybe it wasn't that bad. But the majority of the men who had come to chat her up were unacceptable for one reason or another. She didn't consider herself to be a finicky girl, but for a while there she'd found herself seriously wishing she were lesbian. At least the other girls at the club seemed to hold themselves to some kind of standard.

Most of the men that had hit on her had been far too old to be trying for a girl her age- middle aged businessmen who honestly thought they were Arceus' gift to teenage girls. She'd been able to brush most of them off, but a few had apparently thought that a girl was eligible for groping as soon as she hit eighteen. Those had received a high heel in the crotch, and most of them had taken the hint. A few of the men who talked to her failed even the most basic standards for hygiene, and Flannery dispatched them with patient (if somewhat disgusted) refusals. Other potential suitors had been the right age and attractive enough, but many of them were on... well, something. Flannery didn't know exactly which substances were going around the club tonight, but she tried to steer clear of anyone on them. She didn't oppose getting high in principle, but she'd found it best to avoid getting any boy worked up while he was on something- a lot of the stuff running around the Lavaridge club scene impaired judgement, and it was a good way to get hurt. For a while Flannery had despaired of ever meeting anybody interesting. Every guy there seemed to be ugly, creepy or high.

And then he had shown up.

It was funny, she thought as the two of them walked to his apartment, she couldn't even remember his name but he seemed perfect for her. She'd been at the bar, almost to the point on giving up for the night when he'd approached. She hadn't even liked him at first, but after he'd introduced himself and bought her a drink, she found herself warming up to him. Warming up in general, as a matter of fact- the more she drank with him the hotter and dizzier she felt. He was a real gentleman, though- he kept taking her glass to get her some more so that she didn't have to fight the crowd around the bartender herself.

Flannery leaned into the man walking beside her and giggled. Part of her kept insisting something was wrong, but it was so hard to concentrate. She couldn't bring herself to focus on the little voice inside that told her to run, so she ignored it instead and focused on her partner. Standing on her tip-toes, she began to play with the spikes of his light purple hair. He gave her a predatory smile before placing his hand on her lower back and pulling her roughly down a side street. Staggering, Flannery did her best to keep up.

"Wha' th' matter?" She slurred, her vision beginning to blur. Something was wrong with her, she had to-

She... she had to...

Thinking got too hard. Her panic began to ebb as she lost the ability to maintain it, and she just stared vacantly into the distance as the man forced her into a dark alley and pushed her roughly into the wall. His hands began to roam over her body, sliding downwards to rub her ass before coming back up to squeeze her tits. He wasn't gentle- far from it- but Flannery found her body responding of its own accord. She realized to her somewhat doped up horror that she was incredibly turned on, but her response was uncoordinated. She pawed at her partner stupidly, attempting to rub his crotch but missing and grabbing his thigh. He didn't seemed too deterred, however- the wolfish grin was back.

"Just leave it to me." He growled, pushing her hands behind her back.

Flannery, able to hear the words but barely able to interpret their meaning, made another attempt to feel him up before realizing that she couldn't move her hands. Making another attempt resulted in a clinking noise and the sensation of cold metal at her wrists. Looking over one shoulder Flannery was surprised- and even further turned on- to see that while he'd been distracting her he'd managed to handcuff her arms behind her back. Turning towards him, she grinned sloppily.

"So..." She drawled, "you're into tha' kind of inter... intra... infa... sex, are you? Well, two can play at that game!"

Leaning backwards, Flannery thrust her chest out as far as she could and gave her partner a look- one she thought was demure, but which ended up looking more than a little crazed.

" 'm all yours Master... wha's your name again?"

Stepping inwards, the man kissed her before placing something cold and metallic against her exposed midriff.

"The name is Brodie. Maxie sends his love." Answered Brodie. Flannery had just enough time to gasp in surprise before he triggered the stun gun he'd placed up against her stomach and sent nearly three hundred thousand volts directly into her body.

At first there was no observable change in Flannery, with the exception that her entire body went totally still. Then, as her muscles began to spasm under the electric onslaught, her upper body jerked backwards and slammed into the wall. Her legs began to kick uncontrollably, but trapped as she was between the wall and her assailant she couldn't fall or escape the shocks wracking her body. Finally the pain stopped, as either her tormentor released the trigger or, more likely, the gun ran out of charge. Flannery slid to the ground twitching. To add insult to injury, an acrid odour pierced the air as a dark spot formed on the crotch of her jeans- the stun gun had caused her to lose control of her bladder. Drugged, electrocuted and now soiled, Flannery slid into merciful unconsciousness.

Brodie grinned. He hadn't expected it to be nearly this easy- the girl couldn't hold her liquor for shit, and slipping something into her glass had been a piece of cake. Even better was that her friends hadn't even noticed him leaving with her- hell, as far as he knew they'd just assume she went home. Getting the handcuffs on was a bit of a risk- he wasn't sure she'd go for it- but he didn't want her flailing too much when he'd zapped her. The odds that she could have gotten away even after he'd pulled out the taser had been low, but if she'd screamed it might have been a problem. The cuffs had ensured that she stayed nice and still while he tased her... and they also made transporting her less of a hassle. Brodie picked her up by the legs, and slung her over his shoulder.

Dragging an unconscious girl through a city was not the best way to stay out of jail, but Brodie had picked his spot well. They were in an older part of the city, one that was slated for gentrification but had not actually undergone the process yet. The cops were bright enough not to set foot in this part of town without a whole lot of backup, and Brodie had waited until he was nearly back to his base before taking down Flannery. He therefore saw no one as he dragged Flannery up the stairs of the abandoned apartment building that he and his men had stayed in. Reaching the apartment, he knocked.

"It's me." He called through the door. "I got her."

There was some commotion on the other side of the door before the bolt shot back and the door was opened. Brodie hastened inside. The other men in the apartment- seven, all told- looked up as he entered, then grinned or whistled as they saw who he had slung over his shoulder. Part of that was lust- Flannery was a good looking girl- but a lot of it was relief. The men were backup, and would only have had to go active if Brodie had failed. Their orders were to kill Flannery if she could not be captured, and they knew that if Brodie had failed then Flannery's assassination would have involved them fighting their way past the police. It was still doable, but would likely have resulted in life sentences for all of them. Better to do it this way- quietly and safely.

"Everything went okay?"

"You think I would have come back here if it hadn't? It was easy."

"No one saw you?"

"No. It went fine- got in, drugged her, got out and brought her here. Now, you" here he nodded to one subordinate "and you" he nodded to another, "tie her up and give her the antidote."

Brodie's second in command frowned. He was cautious bordering on cowardly, and he was not particularly fond of Brodie. The man was too willing to take risks.

"The antidote? Didn't the drug work right?"

"It needs some work. It was great as a date-rape drug, but it didn't do what they said it would. But that's neither here nor there, is it? I'm not worried about the drug, I just want her awake."

"Awake? I doubt she'll be very compliant once she's clean."

"I don't want her compliant." Brodie said in a low voice. His look had changed from one of smug satisfaction to one of sadistic intent. "I want her resisting. It makes it... fun."

A few of the men guffawed and elbowed one another. They too wanted a go at Flannery, and were perfectly content to go along with Brodie. The second in command was not so sure however. He didn't give a shit about the girl, but something in Brodie's eyes bothered him...

"The boss didn't tell us to touch her. We're just supposed to restrain her and bring her to the meeting point. Then we-"

"Shut it." Brodie snapped. "The boss will get her... eventually."

Brodie's subordinate opened his mouth to object to the deviation from orders, but was silenced by Brodie's glare.

That was when the screaming started.

Grinning, Brodie turned around. While he'd been talking, the men he'd assigned to prepare Flannery had done just that. She was tied down to one of the beds in the room, each limb tightly secured to the frame by a taught length of rope. In addition, one of his men had taken the initiative to take her shirt off and tie it tightly around her mouth so that the screams were muffled. That was... good, Brodie thought. Screams were good too, but the way the gag made her unable to talk... the way she strained against her bindings in terror, desperate to escape...

Brodie grinned, already feeling himself start to harden. Glancing at his men, he wondered if there was a way to remember this moment.

"Did anyone bring a camcorder?"

One of the men nodded, and brought one out. They weren't particularly uncommon these days, but the boss was paranoid about leaving records and he'd worried that no one would have brought one. Now he had the perfect way to record this moment. He waited for a few seconds so the grunt could get the camera started, and then nodded to him.

"Are we filming yet?"

* * *

><p>"<em>Are we filming yet?"<em> said the man in the video, just before Scott paused it. He turned to the other three occupants of the room and grimaced.

"Flannery... are you absolutely sure you want to watch this? I've seen it, and it isn't pretty. No one will blame you for wanting to forget it.

Flannery considered, then shook her head slowly. "I think... I think I need to." She said in a small voice. "I need to know that they're dead. Is that bad?"

Scott winced at the question, and at the tone of voice in which it was asked. Flannery normally spoke brashly, with the confidence- one might even say arrogance- of youth. To hear her sounding like a lost little girl was distressing to Scott, who had come to be close with most of the Gym Leaders and Brains in Hoenn. It had been a week since Flannery came within a hair's breadth of being raped, and Scott had hoped that the time might have ameliorated the trauma slightly. Obviously it was going to take far longer before Flannery was back to her old self.

"_At least she will return to her old self. At least he managed to save her... no thanks to you."_

Scott shut out the self rebuking thoughts. Over the past week he had cursed himself over and over for not keeping a tighter watch on the Leaders. It was an understandable oversight- he was spread too thin, had too many threats to focus on- but it was an oversight that could have killed the young woman in front of him.

"No Flannery, it's normal." Said the woman on Flannery's left. Doctor Anna was not actually a psychologist by training, but her empathetic nature and high level of intelligence had made her an excellent choice to be the physician to care for Flannery during her recovery. She was also one of the few Doctors anywhere that Scott could trust, which was why Scott had had her flown over from Kanto at his own expense the second he'd found out what had happened. He was trying to stay out of their sessions- he understood that Flannery needed to feel like she wasn't being spied on- but the way Flannery appeared to automatically trust the woman boded well for her chances of recovery.

"We often direct antisocial thoughts towards those who have hurt us badly. You have a right to be angry, honey. Just don't let it turn into despair."

"You're goddamned right she has a right to be angry." Grunted the man on Flannery's other side. Mr. Asuna, Flannery's aged but fearsome grandfather had attached himself to Flannery's side from the moment she woke up in the hospital. He had been unwilling to let her out of his sight for more than a few moments time since then, and the fact that Flannery did not protest this showed just how scared she'd been. Currently one of her arms was interlaced with his, and her hand gripped his forearm tightly.

"If I ever get my hands on one of those bastards-"

"An unlikely event, Mr. Asuna." Sighed Scott. "There all dead but one anyway, and he... well, he's been dealt with quite thoroughly. Shall we proceed?"

Flannery and her grandfather nodded, but Scott waited for Dr. Anna's almost imperceptible nod of agreement before proceeding.

The camcorder was a civilian model, and so the quality was not that great. That may have been a blessing actually, as it meant Flannery's desperately struggling form was blurred. It was still obviously her, however, and the blurry visuals did not keep the decent audio from relating the sound of Flannery screaming in fear. The girl in question winced, then squeezed her grandfather's arm a little tighter before opening her eyes again. Onscreen, Brodie repeated his question.

"_Are we filming?"_

The video shakes slightly, indicating the cameraman has nodded. Brodie turns to the bed, looming over Flannery, and then starts to disrobe. He fumbles with the buckle on his jeans slightly, but once it's undone he slides off the pants with no difficulty. Clad in nothing but his boxers now, his state of arousal becomes clear. Grinning at Flannery's bound form, he removes his underwear, revealing his manhood in all its glory.

Well... three and a half inches worth of glory anyway.

The other men off-screen begin to laugh, and Brodie screams at them to be quiet. Flannery, still tied to the bed, makes a gurgling noise. She was most likely just choking on the makeshift gag, but Brodie, already furious, interprets it as laughter.

"_What was that?"_ he asks her, his voice low and dangerous. _"Did you just laugh?"_

A terrified Flannery shakes her head, but Brodie is having none of it. Even on low resolution video it's evident how angry he is- his face contorts in rage, and he stalks off to the side, beyond the camera's view.

"_Give me a knife."_

"_Goddamnit! Can't you wait until we've all had a turn?"_

"_She has two more holes. Give me a knife. Now!"_

There are some angry mutters, but Brodie stalks back into the shot as if he doesn't hear them. Heading for the end of the bed, he sits in between Flannery's spread legs and begins to play with a wickedly sharp butterfly knife.

"_Think it's funny, huh pretty girl? You gonna think it's funny when you have to wear diapers for the rest of your life?"_

Brodie unbuttoned Flannery's jeans and slid them down her hips as far as they would go in her bound position. Once they were as far down as her could get them he started tearing into the fabric with the knife, making sure that he traced the cold metal over her now exposed thighs often in order to elicit more screams. It was an ugly, brutal scene, and the four people watching the video found themselves relieved when Brodie's sadism was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass.

Brodie jerks his head around to find the source of the noise, and the cameraman does the same. The shot swings to the left- the area where the noise came from- and settles on the apartment's now broken window. The hole in the pane is enormous, so much so that most of the glass is gone. All that remains are jagged shards that line the window's edges.

"_What the fuck? Did somebody break the window?"_

"_There's no glass inside, so what- wait, where the hell is Jake?"_

"_What?"_

"_He was standing right there... oh shit, did that idiot fall out?"_

"_Check." _Comes Brodie's voice from off-screen. _"If someone fell we have to move- the cops will be here."_

One of the men proceeds to the window and gingerly sticks out his head, trying to avoid the sharp edges. Looking down to the pavement below, he shrugs his shoulders.

"_There's nothing down there." _He calls back to the room. Scott paused the video once more.

"Flannery, do you remember anything about what happened next?"

The Leader of Lavaridge thought for a moment before shaking her head.

"Not... really. I remember hearing the window break, but..." Her voice trails off and she looks away. Dr. Anna muttered to her reassuringly.

"Okay" said Scott "then this will need a little explanation. The man they refer to as having fallen out the window was actually found on the roof. He was... dead. Very dead. His neck had been broken so hard that we found traces of his vertebrae in the oesophageal cavity."

Both Dr. Anna and Mr. Asuna winced, but Flannery just nodded. It wasn't a happy nod, but it did carry at least a trace of relief.

"The next few seconds of video are... cluttered. We've slowed it down as far as we can without making it unwatchable, but it's still pretty hard to follow. Are you ready?"

The other three affirmed that they were.

"Okay, I'll be walking you through it."

Scott hit the play button again, and this time the video had changed. The movements were much slower, and audio had been disabled- at that speed it was useless anyway. The man with his head out the window began to retract it, trying to turn back towards his compatriots. Just as his head was over the frame- and the jagged shards of glass left in place- chaos struck. It had been night time outside when the video had been filmed, but the moon was up and it was just possible to see a dark shape piston downwards to connect with the back of the man's head.

"We think that was a kick." Scott told the viewers. "As you may be able to tell, the... uh... 'person' who rescued Flannery is moving much faster than her kidnappers. I've had one of my combat specialists take a look at this next bit, and he tells me that this kind of speed is possible... barely."

The man who was kicked is forced downwards, and there's a splash of red as his face connects with the broken glass on the sill. His head jerks backwards- most likely to scream in agony- but the attacker from above wastes no time. The foot is brought back, and-

"Kick to the neck." Scott says as the man in the video goes down. "Broke his trachea. The trauma burst his carotid too, so he probably bled to death before he suffocated."

The other men have started to react by this point, but they're slow- too slow. The attacker's leg swings back, and he uses the forward momentum to propel himself into the room. The manoeuvre should have been impossible- he should have shredded himself on broken glass on the way in- but Scott's team had checked the frame and found no blood that didn't belong to one of the kidnappers.

It was impossible to tell who had just burst into the room. The video quality was too poor, the room was too dark, and the figure itself had something pulled over its face. The general consensus from the few people Scott had authorized to watch the video was that their mystery man was a male, probably young, and wearing some seriously odd clothing- what looked like a cross between a robe and a Gi. But what was far more disconcerting than his odd clothes was how _fast _he could move. Scott had been training insertion agents for years now, but he had never met anyone who could react so quickly after entering a room- even the best agents in the world needed time to think, time to adapt to a new environment before they could act. That was one of the biggest dangers of entry- your opponents just needed to shoot you, whereas you needed a moment to think about the layout of the room and the presence of neutrals. For this person however, there wasn't even a hint of hesitation before he picked up the nearest thing that came to hand and threw it at Brodie's head.

"That was an ash tray." Scott informed them. "We found bits and pieces of it around the room- he threw it so hard it broke. Our guess is that he was trying to deal with the biggest threat to Flannery first before dealing with the others in the room."

And deal with them he did. After tossing the ash tray, the attacker grabbed the man closest to him and brought one of his feet down hard on the kidnapper's knee. Scott had seen that move before- taking out a knee was a great way to restrict an enemy's movement, and if you got the angle right you could permanently disable one of their legs. He'd seen it tried by fighters of various levels with various levels of success. Sometimes it failed- the kick was too high, and just bounced off the femur- and sometimes it succeeded in breaking the knee. But he'd never seen a kick like that shatter a leg, which was what apparently happened here.

"Autopsy showed cracks in both the tibia and femur." Said Scott, still narrating for the benefit of the other viewers. "The patella was... hell, it was practically powder. The ligaments and tendons were sheared apart by the force."

"Is that even possible?" Asked Mr. Asuna with a trace of awe. He had been a member of the elite four once, and danger was nothing new to him, but the sheer efficiency with which the kidnappers had been dispatched had impressed even him.

"Yes, if you're hit with a pneumatic hammer. Getting kicked by a human being? Not so much." Scott sighed and paused the video again. "That's pretty much all there is to see of the fight. After this, the cameraman drops the camcorder. We found six bodies and one wounded, all of which had similar injuries- extreme blunt trauma, broken necks, that sort of thing."

Mr. Asuna whistled. "Three men down in the time it takes for the camera guy to react? How long was that?"

"From the time he kicks the first man in the head to the time the camera was dropped? About four and a half seconds." Scott frowned. "If you watch again, you can see he pauses for about a half second to make sure the tray hits Brodie."

"Under five seconds? Are you sure?"

"As sure as we can be. Flannery? What do you think?"

"I think... I think I want to go home." The girl slumped. "Thank you for showing me Scott. I know you must have had to fight with your bosses to get me authorized to watch this."

Scott nodded, refraining to mention that his bosses were never even going to hear about this video. After he'd seen what came next on the tape- the part he hadn't shown Flannery- he'd decided this incident was staying strictly in-house.

"I'm going to have to ask you not to talk about this Flan." Scott told her regretfully. "Not even to your parents. They can know you were attacked, of course, but we need to keep how you were rescued a secret. Can you do that?"

Flannery nodded slowly. "Scott?"

"Yes?"

"Do... do you know who that was?"

"Brodie? He's a lowlife. Good at disguises, but he got kicked out of Team Magma back when-"

"No." Flannery shook her head. "The other guy. The one who came for me. Do you know who he is?"

Scott briefly considered lying to her, but as she looked up into his eyes he decided it would be pointless.

"Not for certain, but... yes. Yes, I know."

Flannery nodded. "Could you tell him I... tell him I said 'thank you', okay?"

Scott promised he would, then saw the others out as they left his office. Once the door was shut and he was sure security was tight again, he moved back to the television and hit the fast forward button. The camera had remained on the floor for awhile, and had then been turned off... but the video wasn't over. It must have been turned on again after it was picked up, because when the camera comes to life again it's on a stable, raised vantage point- probably set down on a table or chair. It points at the bed where an untied Flannery lays sleeping. The mysterious caller is seated at the edge of the bed facing the camera, features still obscured by the hood.

"_Hello Scott."_ He begins. _"I feel that we can use first names here- if you're nearly as good as Brigette says you are then this video will never see the light of day. I would advise against showing this to regular police either- you must know by now how far they've been penetrated."_

The man placed his hands on his knees and sighed.

"_As for who I am... well, you must have at least taken a guess by now, right? I'm young, I'm male, I knew you, and I'm technically supposed to be dead. How many people like that do you know? But for the record, yes, I am the boy that you watched fight Agatha all those years ago. That probably doesn't fill you with confidence- I admit to being fairly... irresponsible back then. Times have changed. I've changed. Look, Scott, we don't have many reasons to like each other. You're employed by the very organization that ruined my life, and I represent a threat to the stability of the region you're sworn to protect. But I learned long ago that you don't have to like someone to work with them, and we need each other. I need information and equipment, and you... well, this Flannery thing is a perfect example. You're spread too damn thin and you're running out of allies. Even if you don't want to help me you can't afford to ignore me. I can do too much damage and you know it._

_So here's the deal. I will be coming to you in one week. You can do as I ask and let me in to talk, or you can try and arrest me and get a lot of your people killed when I fight my way out. You don't have to give me your support Scott, but one way or another I will have your neutrality._

_Oh, and one more thing. I think I've demonstrated adequately that I have no desire to involve innocents in this, but if you had any doubts that I will punish the guilty just take a look at Brodie. I hate Flannery's guts, but anyone who tries something like that while I'm around? Let him be a lesson, Scott: don't mess with me."_

The screen went dark, and Scott smiled vaguely. He supposed he should be worried- if the man in the video was who he claimed to be, then the peace that Scott had fought for so hard was probably about to evaporate. Still, if he was still anything like he was back when Scott knew him, then maybe the situation was about to change for the better. Scott's enemies were undoubtedly going to get it harder then Scott himself was. Brodie was just one example: his ability to rape had been taken from him permanently when he'd been gelded by what was probably his own knife.

Strangely enough, Scott found himself having very few objections to that.

"Lesson learned, Ash." Scott chuckled quietly, unable to keep himself from grinning.

"Lesson learned."

* * *

><p><strong>Nobody tries to rape Flannery in one of my fics and gets away with it. I hope you all recognize that that scene was supposed to be brutal and not titillating- rape is an act of violence, pure and simple. There isn't anything sexy about it. Later I'll be bringing in themes of control, and I hope you can see the difference between Brodie's viciousness and Ash's need to dominate in order to feel safe- Brodie was indulging in psychopathic sadism, whereas Ash will struggle between his desire to be in control and his fear of hurting someone irreparably. It isn't that noticeable in the next few chapters, but will probably be more so after he meets his old female companions.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5: While You Were Out

**Some of you may be pissed that I never mentioned exactly what Ash did at Brigette's. Don't worry, she'll be coming back. Probably.**

**To my reviewers:**

**dark knight: Oh, don't worry. There will be plenty of female characters introduced.**

**Kurtispj5: Shutting up now. And yes, you're right, Feraligatr is misspelled, although I feel compelled to point out that the only reason it isn't 'Feraligator' is because the games have a character limit. Still, it's fixed for chapter 6.**

**Hellblack: Thanks.**

**Twilight- The Moon Spirit: I love 'em, but I agree that they can be really stupid sometimes. I'm trying to avoid the usual pitfalls, although there is an element of 'every girl loves him'. And if you really have people who will stick with you like that, I hope you treasure them. I don't think I know a single person outside of my immediate family who wouldn't sell me out for the right price. Hell, I've known people for three years who'd fuck me over if the reward was good enough.**

* * *

><p><strong>5- While You Were Out...<strong>

"_Ash? Ash, are you sure about this?"_

The honest answer, now that I was confronted with the reality of facing my past, was no. But as I stood outside the League building in Verdanturf where Scott was waiting for me, I knew I had very little choice. Even when I was young and stupid I'd never backed down from a challenge, and I didn't intend to hide from this. Why the hell should I worry over what the world would think of what I've become? I was back, and the people of the Four Regions could accept that or they could go to hell.

"Yeah." I told Brigette. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"_But... I mean, aren't you tired of fighting? I don't blame you for coming back, but why not keep your head down and go have fun? Change the name and no one would recognize you- you could live peacefully."_

I snorted. "I can't really see myself settling down Brigette. Besides, this is what I'm good at- what I've been trained to do. It may not seem like much of a life to you, but it's all I have."

"_You could stay with me." _She blurts out, then quickly corrects: _"Stay here I mean. You were a damn fast learner with computers- you could help me with the databases. It pays well, good benefits..."_

I sigh, disheartened. It's a great offer, and it sounds like she really needs an assistant- her voice had carried a quiet note of hope with it when she asked- but I can't.

"I'm sorry Brigette, I wish I could. But I need this. You can't ignore a festering wound and hope it'll get better. You either have to heal it... or burn out the rot. I intend to do a little of both, but I can't accomplish either if I run and hide."

"_..."_

"Brigette?"

"_Oh... okay. Well... uh, you can visit if you want. I mean, you don't have to, but-"_

"I'd like that." I told her seriously. "I think I'm going to need someplace where no one wants to kill me in the very near future."

I take a deep breath, steeling my nerves. Having achieved the resolve necessary to advance, I begin to ascend the steps that lead into the building. It isn't the edifice itself that worries me- the League has always been concerned with their image, and pains have obviously been taken to make their buildings look friendly and inviting. No, what concerns me is that this 'friendly' organization- the same damned organization I'd spent most of my early life idolizing- had decided years ago that I would be doing the world a favour if I'd just die like a good boy. The main difficulty I have while approaching the door is not to prevent myself from running away, but to prevent myself from blowing the door in and start demanding where five years of my life went.

"_Or maybe I could have Charizard burn it down." _I thought grimly. _"May as well actually commit the crime I was punished for. Maybe I get a freebie?"_

It isn't really a funny thought, but my lips twist in grim humour regardless. Pushing the door open, I take my first step back into the world of civilization.

For a League building, this isn't too bad. It's the main office for the entirety of Hoenn's Battle Frontier, so of course it's opulent, but I'd figured it would be crasser than this. The potted plants are actually real- no fake ficus shit- and the vaulting windows on either side of the main atrium provide a decent source of natural light. It can't fully escape the League's propaganda machine however- posters describing the League's new initiatives adorn the walls, and I frown. Regulation wasn't a bad thing- it prevented chaos at any rate. But as true as that was, Pokemon are living creatures, not currency, and they should be treated as such. The League had a few new policies that seemed interfering at best, and illegal at worst. Shaking my head, I made my way to the front desk to speak to one of the frighteningly efficient looking women who worked there. As I approached one, she gave me a cheerful, professional smile which soon fell into surprise and then shock as she got a good look at me. I grimaced. So much for all my attempts to fit in.

Earlier that day I had realized that even if Scott were willing to speak to me, I would look damned odd walking into a League building as I was. I couldn't give less of a damn about fashion, but even I realised that dressed as I was I didn't really fit in- my training clothes weren't particularly appropriate for urban street wear, and most people my age didn't look like they cut their hair with a combat knife. Reluctantly I had resigned myself to the idea that I would need some sort of image change to pass unnoticed. Biting the bullet, I had asked Brigette for advice.

My first plan of action, as suggested by Brigette, had been to ditch the "Jedi look" (her words, not mine) and trade out my usual hooded robe and training pants for more inconspicuous attire. That had been harder than I'd thought- apparently if you wear the same type of clothing everyday for five years, you get more used to them than you'd expect- but the combination of my age and my gender meant I could pretty much get away with wearing whatever I wanted, and so I'd gone for the clothes most similar to what I was used to. The dark blue jeans and gray shirt I'd picked up still felt odd, but they were light, they fit in, and I could move in them. Add to that a pair of shoes I could run in and a jacket with a hood that obscured my face nicely, and I'd be ready for just about anything.

My next actions had been harder. I'd realized that a haircut and a trip to the bank were necessary- walking around looking like I'd just killed someone and was looking to do it again was bound to get me noticed, and the pocket money Brigette had given me until I could get to the bank wasn't going to last forever. I still balked at both tasks though, the former because I didn't like blades near my face and the latter because I didn't like men in suits near my money. I'd decided that the haircut would have to come first, as banks don't tend to serve you when you look like crap, so I'd finally gathered my resolve and subjected myself to the tender ministrations of a woman who seemed to consist entirely of permed hair and cherry red nails. She had washed and cut my hair, given up on any attempt to style it, lamented that young men never took care of themselves the way they should, called me 'hon' thirty or forty times, and eventually decided that I was as good as I was getting.

"You could look so nice if you tried." She told me, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth in disapproval. "Why do you all go for the 'bad boy' look? It may get you the girls in the short term, but Lord knows they won't be the type of woman worth keeping, no sir."

"I... what?"

"Now a nice young fella like you, you oughta start dressing right. I remember back when I was your age-"

I tune her out, more out of confusion than rudeness. She continues talking, covering subjects from politics to dating. Her monologue was interesting in a strange sort of way, but as I understood less than half of it I was hard pressed to pay attention. Through it all her much younger assistant kept... looking at me. She was giggling too, probably amused by her boss' ramblings and my own increasingly evident discomfort. I was aware that some sort of battle was occurring, some kind of conflict between me, the hairdresser and the assistant, but I didn't understand the rules of engagement. Mostly I just nodded, and when they were done with my head I paid and departed, escaping with as much grace as I felt I could spare. That had been a learning experience; it turned out that the abyss that was modern society went deeper than I had believed possible.

Next was the bank, and if the hair dresser had disturbed me then the bankers had amused me to no end. I had gone in to Hoenn Savings and Loan with my hood down- not my choice, but banks tend to take exception to people who cover their face- and although the teller had been polite, and even flirtatious in a professional way, it was obvious that she was just humouring me. Why waste too much effort on a teenager who walks in sporting blue jeans and a scowl? She'd smile at me cheerily, reassure me that my business was appreciated, and then repossess my credit card or whatever the hell I'd come in for. Her eyes had glazed over with concealed mirth when I'd given her the First Bank of Kanto account number and asked for a statement, and it was therefore with a sort of righteous satisfaction that I watched her expression change to one of surprise as the balance came up. Mentally I thanked Yellow for providing me with enough money to deflate the teller's sense of superiority.

Of course, it wasn't until she'd double checked the figures and my credentials that the expression on her face had gone from surprise to shock. I didn't blame her for that- when she'd recovered enough to tell me what was in the account, I was a damn sight more shocked than she was, even if I hid it better. I'd seen that many zeros before, but the fact that there were numbers in front of them had been surprising.

Calls had been made, and before I could even recover from the shock I had been ushered into an office where a man in a bad suit had told me how it was great that such an important old customer had come to call. He was talking out his ass of course- I'd never been there before in my life, and he got my name wrong twice, but it was alright. Coming in with a foreign bank account and an apparently massive fortune would mean I'd be remembered, and I'd prefer it if I was remembered incorrectly. I'd brushed off his chatter, had him transfer some of the money over to his branch for my own personal use, and then withdrawn enough money to keep me solvent. Armed with Brigette's information, Yellow's money, and Red's... uh... casual disregard for the wellbeing of anyone between me and my goal, I was ready. Time to find Scott and shake some info out of him.

I'd thought that the new clothes and hair would at least make me look slightly normal, but judging by the intensely curious look on the face of the girl at the front desk, I'd failed miserably. Arceus, you'd think she'd never had a tall, angry man glare at her before.

"I'm here to see Scott." I growled. Her smile came back, and she nodded with strained cheer.

"Is he expecting you?"

"He'd fucking better be. Tell him he's got ten minutes before I drag his fat ass down here myself."

"Sir, I wonder if you realize the full legal implications of that statement?" The secretary asked me. I had to give her credit, there aren't too many people who would talk back when I'm in this kind of mood. She's nervous, of course- like all aura users, I had an unfortunate tendency to broadcast extreme emotions, and there was no way she could have missed the rage I was trying desperately to suppress- but her voice quavers only slightly. Scott's hired some good people.

"If it were construed as a threat-"

"That wasn't a threat, miss. Look, just give him a message that Flannery's friend is here, I'm sure he'll-"

"Ahh! Mr. Smith! Excellent timing- Mr. Enshida is waiting for you."

I turn slowly and come face to face with one of the Jenny's. With her shoulder length teal hair and light brown eyes, this specimen is typical of the breed, with the exception of clothing- this Jenny was dressed in a tightly cut but eminently respectable business suit. She smiles at me in the same way the girl at the desk did, broadly but with absolutely no trace of warmth. Unlike the girl at the desk, however, this woman gave off an air of deadly competence. She only looked to be three or four years older than I, and she might have been wearing a suit instead of a uniform, but I took a second to remind myself that didn't mean she wasn't dangerous. I nodded to her.

"Take me to him, please."

The Jenny did an immediate about face, walking off towards a bank of elevators. I follow behind, sticking close, and the Jenny leads me past several rows of security checkpoints with nothing more than a nod or a glance to any guards who approach us. Reaching the elevators, she removes a key from a pocket and inserts it before pressing the button. The doors open in no time, and she ushers me in. There are no buttons in this elevator, merely a key-hole, and she turns it again.

The second the doors shut the Jenny's genial facade vanishes and she scowls at me.

"Listen, you get one warning. Try anything here and you will be cut down."

I snort, refusing to rise to the bait. "'Mr. Smith'? Seriously? Good to know Scott's taught his people the fine art of subterfuge."

Her scowl deepens, but I take note of the small flush of embarrassment that crosses her cheeks. "You're lucky I didn't call you something obscene." She grumbled.

"You're one to talk. How does somebody with the first name 'Marble' have a right to make fun of anyone else?"

She stiffens, and I chuckle. "Yeah, I remember you. Jenny's aren't that hard to tell apart, not when you've travelled with Brock for as long as I did." I tell her. If she notices the way I spit the name "Brock", she decides not to comment on it.

"I wasn't sure it was really you at first." She says quietly. "It's been a while Ash."

"Yes it has. Last I saw of you, you were cavorting around Sinnoh in a latex cat-suit. Did exhibitionism get boring, or does Scott just pay really well?"

The red in her face, which had been gently receding, returns full force.

"I was fourteen!" She hissed, embarrassed.

"And flat as a board." I commented. "Nice ass though."

Marble's mouth dropped open and she made ready to protest, but then her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You're trying to make me mad, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I don't know how this meet is going to go. If things go badly, I want you angry and embarrassed- ineffectual. It lowers your fighting capabilities."

She smiled slightly. "You aren't very good at it. Most men wouldn't say something like that with absolutely no emotion."

I shrugged. The few of Lanette's educational videos I had watched had been very, uh... educational, but I was still far from understanding the basics of gender interactions, much less mastering their application. I had mostly just commented on Marble's old outfit to see how she'd react.

"Seriously though, why you? Why here? Shouldn't you be in the Sinnoh police force by now? You must have graduated."

She begins to scowl again, but this time her rage is far more genuine than previously.

"Let's just say that the SPD isn't what it used to be." She told me quietly. "I found that out the hard way."

"What do you mean?"

"I quit. It was that or be fired."

"For what?"

"For being the only person on the force with enough moral character to do my damn job." She snarled. "I... I don't want to talk about it. Suffice it to say that I made the wrong kind of enemies- the kind that can afford to bypass the law as they see fit, okay?"

I shrugged again. "So why here?"

"Scott was hiring. He needed good officers, and it's a job where I can actually get something done without being buried by lawyers. As for why I'm here now, Scott felt it was better for someone who you knew to come meet you."

I laughed, completely humourlessly. "Knew me? We met for what, a week? Why don't you just come out and say it Marble? Scott wants me pissed off, but was scared if he sent down someone I knew too well I'd kill them. He sent you to test the waters- to see how I'll react to a bit of my past."

"I'm sure it never crossed his mind." She told me woodenly. I sighed.

"Look, I'm not about to tear someone's throat out with no provocation. You don't need to treat me like some kind of time bomb... and you won't need that damn gun either, so quit fiddling with it."

Her hand, which has been slowly and probably unconsciously crawling up her side, drops immediately. Marble, while not quite voluptuous, is very definitely feminine and it's a surprise that there's any room left in that suit for a weapon. It must be something small- a twenty-two maybe.

"How did you-"

"Gun oil. You might want to wear a stronger perfume."

She opens her mouth to retort, but at that moment the elevator stops and the doors slide open. Upon walking into the League building, I'd had doubts about Scott and his competence- security in the Lobby was tight, but there was no doubt it was a civilian installation. Now, as the door revealed the corridor to Scott's office, I realized that everything up to this point had merely been for show. This part of the installation was military grade. The walls were a dull gray colour, most likely concrete, and I could see the gleam of metal struts imbedded within, indicating that the entire structure had been reinforced. As Marble and I walk down the corridor, we pass several metal fire-doors designed to seal off access points and funnel any hostiles towards the metal staircase at the end of the hall. The staircase itself is quite wide, and I can't help but notice that it would provide an excellent place to mount a defence.

"How many-" I begin to ask, before Marble cuts me off.

"Two light machine guns, there and there." She says, pointing to the sand-bag enclosed nests to the sides of the top steps. "Not very accurate at long range, but they don't need to be. Not here."

I nod, thinking. "That can't be all. Not if Scott is as paranoid enough to lead the HBI."

Marble grimaced. "That isn't all. Small explosive charges are placed at intervals in all hallways, and our fire-system is completely compartmentalized. We get invaded, all Scott has to do is shut the fire doors and blow the mines in that section."

"Great. Puts me at ease."

"Consider yourself lucky." She grumbled. "Those are just the ones I'm allowed to tell you about."

I hum, thinking. "There's no way you could mount this much weight in a tower, so how... ahh. We're underground, aren't we?"

"Nearly two hundred feet. The blueprints of this place only go down to basement two; you can't get lower unless you have access to one of the special elevators. Kinetic dampers in the elevator make it damn hard to tell if you're going up or down."

I snort, genuinely amused. "Hilarious. Scott's got his Frontier Director office upstairs, and his doomsday bunker downstairs. Must make it easier to switch between cheerful civil servant and paranoid schizophrenic."

"He's a good boss." Marble said defensively. "Now come on, we're late."

"We? You're going to be present for this meeting?"

"Scott requested it. Is that a problem?"

"If you have at least two brain cells to rub together than you know why I'm here and why I need to talk to Scott. I just thought that Jenny's disapproved of vigilantism."

"Working with Scott has taught me that law and justice aren't always the same thing. As long as we have the same enemies I'm willing to tolerate some... liberties, let us say, with the law."

I shrug, and gesture to the door, indicating that she should proceed. She pushes the door in and ushers me into Scott's office. The place is a complete mess, reminiscent of Brigette's desk when she's been on a three day MMORPG binge (I had been unfamiliar with the acronym up until meeting her, but unfortunately that happy state of ignorance did not last long- suffice it to say that getting trapped in a self-bondage experiment looked like a kind fate when your social life consisted solely of killing elves). The disorder in the room did not hold my attention for long, however. Soon enough I noticed the only other occupant of the room besides Marble and I.

Scott Enshida.

Director of the Battle Frontier, head of the Hoenn Bureau of Intelligence, and friend to peripatetic trainers the world over. He held more awards and accolades than I could name, and none of it stopped the fact that I had to work very hard not to punch his fucking lights out.

Scott didn't speak, not immediately anyway. He merely stood, came around from his desk, and stopped a few paces in front of me. He looked me over slowly, his face betraying nothing of his reaction. For my part, I just stood there practicing my self control. Eventually he must have come to a decision, because he exhales and then offers up a small smile.

"Ash Ketchum. When you called, I thought... no. No, it is you. You're back."

I don't bother answering. I just stare back at him, my face expressionless.

"It's been a while, hasn't it? You've grown up so much it's unbelievable. It seems like yesterday that-"

"Why?" I ask, cutting him off.

"Why what?"

"You know what." I growl quietly. "I saw the interview, Scott. They let me have a TV at least- although, in retrospect, that wasn't really an act of kindness. Five years ago you sold me out. Why?"

For a second Scott looks haggard and much too old for a man in his mid-thirties. Sighing heavily, he gestures to the seats in front of his desk.

"You might want to sit down. We have a lot to talk about."

I nod once, and then move to take a seat. Scott retreats behind his desk to reclaim his own chair, and Marble seats herself beside me. Scott takes a moment to refresh himself from the glass on his desk, and then begins to speak.

"Five years ago, the situation in the regions was... tumultuous." He began. "If you can recall, the gangs were just starting to gain serious power, and we'd just gotten over that business with Arceus and the other Sinnoh legendaries-"

"The business that I stopped?" I interrupt. "Yeah, I remember saving the world. Again. But I'm sorry, you were busy telling me why I was sent to die?"

Scott's face tightens, but he manages to avoid wincing... barely. He decides that the best course of action was to continue on as if I hadn't spoken.

"We were weak." He told me. "We were weak and we knew it. The League has never been more than a loosely bound organization, Ash- our forces are disparate, hard to organize. We have the rangers for small scale engagements, but at that time we were spread too thin. We were putting out brush fires everywhere, and it seemed like one more strain would break us for good. When your case first came up, it seemed simple. Bear in mind that at that point no thorough investigation had occurred, and it was easy to just believe you were guilty. In some ways it was beneficial to the League- nothing unites people like a good tragedy. Some were of the opinion that domestic terrorism was a good excuse to consolidate our power base."

I was at that point very glad that I hadn't brought my weapons or my Pokemon to this meeting. I'd been worried about going in unarmed, but it was for the best- if I'd been holding a gun or a Pokeball at that moment, I would have undoubtedly shattered it considering how hard I was clenching my fist.

"An excuse." I whisper. "That's it? I was used an excuse so that you people could get the population to listen to you?"

Scott shook his head. "No. I know what you must think of us Ash, but the League isn't despotic. It was quietly suggested that we may have to spin the incident in our favour if you turned out guilty, nothing more. People like Lance and I would never have let political agendas like that pass."

"Then what happened?" I grate out.

"I'm still not totally sure." Scott admitted, frowning. "The investigation into the incident started out normal enough, but it got hushed up early. That wasn't too surprising really- at the time I'd thought someone in the League had found out about your battle record and was trying to keep it quiet to distance you from us. And then..."

"Then what?"

"Then you were exiled. Suspiciously fast, I might add."

"Just like that?"

"Hell no! You think that half the people on the League's Board of Advisors didn't squeal bloody murder when we got told what was going to happen? Most of us knew you personally Ash- I'll admit we didn't think you were innocent, but a lot of us were far from convinced you were guilty. But..."

"But what? Somebody crucified me and you watched it happen."

I didn't have any god damned choice! I- no. That's wrong. I had a choice... and I made the wrong one. The League was... polarized. The gangs were gaining everywhere. Too many people needed you to fall, needed the Celadon bombing to be an open/shut case. We... pressure got applied. We were basically told to drop it. The League rushed out a statement condemning you, and from there on in we were basically stuck. So yeah, I had a choice, the same choice everyone had. I could go public and demand that your case be reopened... and therefore demonstrate to everyone that the League couldn't find its ass with both hands."

"What are you saying Scott?"

"Somebody wanted you to go down." He stated bluntly. "Whether they were targeting you specifically or if you were just convenient I don't know. Whoever it was also seems to have put the screws on the League to go along with it, and anyone who was actually interested in the truth would have had to break the League to get at it. We couldn't have survived re-opening your case, Ash, I know we couldn't have. Not then. The League was just too brittle. If I'd gone public with my suspicions, the whole world would have seen how divided we were, and the gangs would have eaten us alive."

"They seem to have done a good job of that anyway." I pointed out. "Flannery was nearly kidnapped in her own city."

"I'll get to that." Scott told me. "But, yeah Ash. I sold you out. The League sold you out. The Leaders and Brains were told to spew the party line- Ash is guilty, hang him. Those who were recalcitrant were... persuaded. After the media got hold of it, things started snowballing. You know how much they love a scandal- prominent trainer commits atrocity, that sort of thing. After the news started blowing everything out of proportion, we had no choice. The population was convinced you were evil- even if I could have gotten you a fair court, you wouldn't have lasted a week on the outside."

"So you wrote me off. An expendable asset, huh Scott? How many people have you ruined that way, I wonder?"

Scott looked away. "I save everyone I can." He whispered. "That isn't enough. It never has been."

I take a deep breath, feeling the anger drain out of me. "Mew do I know what that's like."

Scott looks up in surprise, and I gaze at him wearily. "I can't forgive you Scott. I don't think I even know how anymore. But... fuck it. I know how much being the necessary evil hurts. I guess I'm going to have to learn to leave things in the past."

Scott stares at me evenly for a minute before speaking again. "I looked for you, you know."

No, I hadn't known. "Why?"

"I was asked to. I would have anyway- your case got me curious enough over the years- but I was asked by a friend of a friend."

"Who?"

"May Maple." Scott said, pretending not to notice how I scowled at the mention of the name. "This would have been about two years ago, maybe a week after you'd been declared innocent. Anabel asked if I would be willing to see someone- a friend of hers- and of course I agreed. They came in later that day- both of them together I mean, Anabel and May. I was surprised. I knew Ms. Maple professionally, of course, but I don't think we'd met outside of League functions since she stopped travelling with you. It wasn't really the best introduction now that I think about it, the girl was terribly distressed- looked like she'd been crying for days. Anabel introduced us, and May..."

Scott trailed off, caught in reminiscence.

"She what?" I prompted, wondering if I truly wanted to hear the answer.

"You won't understand why what she did next was so surprising to me Ash, you can't unless you know the background. May was sixteen then, fresh off her first Grand Festival win and by far one of the most popular coordinators in the region. Quite frankly, I was under the impression she'd forgotten you."

"Good to know how well the treacherous bitch is doing. Does this story have a point?"

"Yes it does. May Maple, who was probably the most popular coordinator in Hoenn at the time- she most definitely is now, at any rate- came into my office, got down on her knees- literally- and begged me to find you."

"What?"

"I swear to god. On her knees, head bowed- told me she'd pay me any amount of money I wanted. I was flabbergasted. I can't remember exactly what I did next- I turned to Anabel for guidance, I think- but by that point May had burst into tears. Anabel tried to comfort her, but it wasn't long before she got weeping too."

I stayed silent.

"They missed you."

"..."

Scott, realizing that I'm not going to talk about this, continues the story.

"I never found you of course. Never even got close, though Arceus knows I moved heaven and earth trying. Eventually I came to the conclusion that you must have died years earlier. When I told May she took the news... solemnly. Didn't cry that time- she just seemed to deflate."

"Scott."

"Anabel took it just as hard. I had to force her to take a vacation before she could work again."

"Scott." I repeated. "My mother. Just give me who killed my mother."

"Your mother would have wanted you to go see-"

"My mother doesn't want anything. My mother is dead. I'm going to find out who killed her, and then I am going to introduce them to the kinds of pain for which there are no words. Help me. Now."

"I will. I promise. The problem is I don't know who killed your mother, and trust me when I say I turned over every stone from here to Kanto looking for them."

Scott flipped through a notebook, probably consulting his notes on the incident. He stopped, flipped back a few pages, and then nodded.

"Okay. My part in all of this comes in later- Kanto wasn't my jurisdiction, so I didn't get involved until nearly two years after you'd been gone. But almost immediately after you left, Lance began to ask questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"The kind that nearly got him fired. He requested- damn near demanded, really- that your case be reopened. His request was denied- we were still too fragile for dissent at that point- so he gave up... or at least, that's what the League thought. In reality, he began to run his own quiet investigation on the side. The first thing that struck him as odd was how much evidence had been ignored. There's a procedure for this sort of thing, and it hadn't been followed at all- witnesses had been investigated once and let go, samples from the wreckage had been mysteriously 'disappeared', the center was torn down and paved over without any records kept- too much was odd for it to be a coincidence. It wasn't much to go on, but Lance decided it was enough that he should check out a few samples from the wreckage that were kept and do a full report on them."

"And?"

"And that's where the first real discrepancy showed up. Do you know much about Charizard biology?"

"I know enough."

"Then you'll know that they ignite their flames in their mouth- very little residual fuel is produced, it's all burned up before it escapes."

"Your point being?"

"Lance found an extraordinarily high concentration of powdered Aluminum residue on some of the samples. Charizards don't even use aluminum for oxidation, they use a magnesium compound."

"So there was fuel residue that couldn't have come from a Charizard?"

"Maybe. That's damn little evidence to go on, and Lance knew he'd need more, so he went and reviewed the videos of the incident."

"There were videos?"

"Very few. A security camera across the street, someone recording a home film... there weren't many records, but there were enough that Lance finally came to the conclusion that you really were innocent."

"How so?"

"The blast was totally wrong. I won't get into details, but a Charizard's mouth would create a point-source flame, and this blast was not only radial but it created pressure waves. No way a Charizard could do that- at least, not with you standing next to it. If you actually were standing next to a Charizard that could do that, you'd be little more than dust."

I leaned back pondering. "Charizard might be able to do that now... but not back then. And you're right, I wouldn't stand anywhere near him if he were going to try something like that. So what does this all add up to?"

"Two things. One, the witnesses were either lying or misled, and two, Charizard couldn't have produced the kind of explosion that occurred. In fact, it's unlikely that any fire Pokemon could have. Even Voltorbs don't blow up like that. Thusly, the misnamed Celadon Bombing was just that- a bombing."

"Bombs are point sources too." I warned.

"Regular ones, yes. But the Aluminum powder is the clue there. They must have set off a thermobaric bomb."

"Okay, so we think we've worked out the how. What did Lance do?"

"Ran in the witnesses. He had enough evidence to at that point, and things had calmed down a little so the League could take the blow to its credibility. This is where I come in, by the way- a few of the witnesses were from here but on vacation. I dealt with the questioning over here. Unfortunately Lance and I brought the witnesses in the slow legal way rather than just grabbing them."

"Why is that unfortunate?"

"Half of them were dead before they ever got here. Strange stuff- car accidents, sudden illnesses."

"Someone wanted them silent."

"Not surprising considering what the ones who survived told us."

"Which was?"

"They admitted to framing you under cross-examination. Some were bribed, others intimidated. What's strange was how easy it was to trip them up- the initial investigation should have caught it, but it seems like any inconsistencies were selectively ignored."

"Okay." I say, curling and uncurling my hands. "Who?"

"We don't know, not for sure. We managed to ID some of the people who'd intimidated the witnesses but they were all low level thugs. None of them had a clue who they were working for. Still, it isn't that hard to figure out where our starting point should be. Team Rocket is the biggest gang in Kanto, and they have a huge presence in Celadon. I've never found anything to implicate them, but even if they didn't do it they must know who it was."

"Right." I said, standing up. "I'm off then."

Scott shook his head. "Sit down Ash. Striking blindly isn't going to get you anywhere- do you even know where to find Team Rocket these days?"

"Simple. I walk around with Pikachu and they'll find me."

Scott laughed. "Ah yes, your old friends Jessie and James. Ash, would you just think for a minute? Even if they hadn't gotten out of Rocket years ago- which they did- what are the odds that the execs would have told them anything relevant to this?"

"Not high." I admit, sitting back down. "So where do I get my info?"

"I already have a plan... but we'll need some more people to pull it off. Marble, could you please escort the two people out in the hall in here please?"

Marble, who had been listening intently for the last few minutes, jerks in surprise and then stands. Walking over to the door, she opens it and beckons to someone I can't see. She re-enters the room followed by-

God. Damn. It.

As inexperienced as I was, even I knew that women- people in general- could be beautiful for different reasons. Some are beautiful for physical reasons; we find their appearance pleasing. There's no doubt that Cynthia Shirona fit into this category; even I was willing to admit that. From her long blonde hair to her startlingly clear gray eyes, everything about her was aesthetically pleasing... not to mention that my body, heedless of my mind, seemed to find that her figure had become very interesting to it since I last saw her.

Other women do not have such characteristics but can be beautiful nonetheless. Some people are so kind, so warm and compassionate that beauty seems to radiate from them. Their physical form is not only inconsequential, it is sometimes hard to even notice in the face of the angelic demeanour they present. The woman behind Cynthia was such a person.

Cynthia and Anabel. Curse Scott!

I grip the edge of my chair with a force that cracks the plastic. Both women turn to face the noise, notice me sitting there and-

Okay, I was pissed that Scott had sprung this on me but their reactions almost make up for that. Neither one of them recognize me of course, not immediately. I didn't expect them to anyway, I had changed a lot. They did, however, recognize the look of pure, unadulterated hatred that I had pasted all over my face. Scott's betrayal was bad enough, but Anabel had been a close friend and Cynthia something of a mentor. I had known both girls well, and their decision to abandon me hurt much worse than Scott's had.

Cynthia freezes, mouth open. She always was a tough one, but she's almost certainly not used to being glared at like this- most people who hated Cynthia and were dumb enough to actually show it ended up as a greasy smear under Garchomp's paw. Anabel's reaction is even better- she's an empath, so she can catch the emotions I'm sending their way. She shudders once, before swooning and almost falling. This causes Cynthia to overcome her surprise. Steadying Anabel with one hand, she turns to me.

"I don't know who the hell you are, but you'd better let up on her or I will-"

"Do what?" I snarl, refusing to back down. "Exile me again? Go ahead and try something Cynthia. Make my fucking day."

The two of us might have thrown down right there and then, if not for Anabel's timely intervention. Shaking Cynthia off, she manages to stagger over to me and throws her arms around my neck, burying her head in my chest.

"Oh god!" She gasps, still trying to recover from the emotional onslaught I'd unleashed when she'd walked in. "Ash, the pain and... oh god, I'm sorry! I didn't know!"

"You got what, two seconds of it? I dealt with it for two bloody years, and then had to live with it for another three." I state angrily. Cynthia looks confused as to what the hell Anabel thinks she's doing, but the Frontier Brain has obviously figured out who I am. She squeezes my neck more tightly and continues to talk.

"I didn't know, I swear I didn't! They all told me it was for the best and... and then you were gone, and, and, and-"

"Alright." I growl, trying my best to keep being angry and failing miserably. Anabel had always had a decent measure of self control, but the poor girl wore her heart on her sleeve- one of the problems with being an empath was that it was hard for her to conceal her own emotions. Mom had raised me too damn well, and honest girls like Anabel hit me right in the weak spot I thought I'd been rid of years ago. "Mew, don't have an aneurism."

"Ash?" states Cynthia, finally getting with the program. "Ash as in Ash Ketchum?"

"Yes." I snapped with as much anger as I could muster with a weeping Anabel clinging to me. Apparently the wrath in my tone was not enough to get through to Cynthia, because soon enough I have a second girl hugging me- this one with an iron grip.

"You know" I gasp out, trying to breath "I can't help but think that my plan to hate you has gone slightly awry."

"Not us." Anabel says, getting herself under control and releasing me. "I can feel that much Ash. You carry so much hate and pain its unreal, but none of it is personal." She flushes, embarrassed. "Sorry. I kinda got in the habit of analysing people."

"Of course you don't hate us, dummy." Cynthia says, lapsing back into the 'big-sister' pattern of speech she'd used with me years ago. "You're just really, really pissed off at us." Cynthia released me and I frowned.

"Yes. Yes I am."

Anabel looked sheepish but Cynthia just smiled ruefully.

"I'm sorry Ash. Truly I am. I don't really expect forgiveness, but..."

I shrugged.

"Would you believe me if I told you I don't have enough energy to hate you right now?"

Cynthia's smile turned into a grin "Forgiven by default? I can live with that. And can you please forgive Anabel too? You should have seen some of her diary entries after you left-" here Cynthia adopted a higher register that mimicked Anabel's voice "_Dear Diary, I can't believe that I never told him I l-_" Cynthia was cut off very suddenly as Anabel planted her elbow in Cynthia's ribs. I didn't think she had it in her.

"What are they doing here?" I asked Scott as Cynthia coughed. "Shouldn't the Champion of Sinnoh actually be in Sinnoh?"

The three of them look away, and Scott clears his throat nervously.

"Actually Ash, Cynthia isn't the Sinnoh champion anymore."

"What?" I turn to Cynthia. "Somebody beat you and was crazy enough to want the job?"

Cynthia scowled. "I wasn't beaten. I was replaced. Shuffled off because I was too big a threat."

"So then who's... Scott, what aren't you telling me?"

"Well... remember your old friend Paul?"

"He wasn't my- oh no. No, no! This is a bad joke, right?"

"You're damn right it's a bad joke." Sighed Cynthia. "The only problem is that we're the punch-line. Paul really is Champion, and he's fucking the region up mightily."

"We'll see how long that lasts." I tell her grimly. "But for now, we have other issues. So tell me Scott, how are we getting info out of the Rockets and why do we need Cynthia and Anabel?"

Scott pushed some papers across the desk to me, and I take them. Foremost on the pile is a picture of a ship- a big one, one that I'm familiar with.

"The S.S. Tidal?"

"Yes." Scott affirmed, "Hoenn's premier cruise ship. It's recently been reserved by a... uh, 'club', which intends to take it on a month long cruise for their annual conference."

"So?"

"So this... 'club'... is one of Hoenn's richest and most venerable. It is widely unknown to the population, but some of Hoenn's most important persons are members. It's a valuable target, and, if my info is correct, Team Aqua intends to take it."

"Kidnapping?"

"Probably, but they have other objectives too. They're going to take it, rob it, and sink it."

"Why?"

"Who knows? Terror run most likely- they want to show the region they can hit whoever they want, whenever they want. The reason why doesn't matter, I just know that I don't want Aqua taking it... and I definitely don't want their alliance with Team Rocket to work out."

Cynthia frowns. "The Rockets with Team Aqua? I thought they'd thrown in with Magma."

"They did. They've secretly allied themselves with both groups, and they're trying to play them off one another. I don't know about you guys, but I definitely prefer Magma and Aqua active but scrapping with each other to Magma and Aqua defeated and Rockets taking over. Those Rockets are nasty bastards."

The three of us nod.

"So we both have something to gain. I get a safe Hoenn, and you can grab a Rocket bigwig on the way out and shake some information out of them."

"Fair enough." I tell him, "But it doesn't explain why we need Anabel and Cynthia."

"Anabel and Marble, actually. Cynthia is too high profile for this op. And you're going to need them because the nature of this club is such that you won't be able to get in alone."

Anabel blushes heavily, and Marble folds her arms over her chest and pouts. Noticing their reactions, I begin to sense something is wrong.

"What do you mean?" I ask cautiously.

Scott reaches over and taps a line on the page he'd pushed towards me. Reading it more carefully this time, I discover the name of the group that's rented the ship, and look back at Scott with disbelieving horror.

"No."

"If it makes you feel better," he said, grinning his idiot face off, "both girls have volunteered."

"No! There is no way that I'm going to go to-"

* * *

><p><strong>To where, Ash? Find out next chapter- same Hollow Man time, same Hollow Man channel. I actually already have written chapter six (and it's twelve thousand words long), but I'm currently thinking about changing it... I was pretty feverish when it was written. Maybe I'll upload it and maybe I won't- it reads like someone took an action novel and a bad erotica and decided to glue them together haphazardly. Feedback? Should Ash and the girls do it or no? How serious should I be?<strong>


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